


Forget Me Not

by pastelwitchling



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anti Miluca, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Malex, Not Maria DeLuca Friendly, Temporary Amnesia, brief one-line mentions of forrest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwitchling/pseuds/pastelwitchling
Summary: After an attack against Mr. Jones, Michael forgets that he ever dated Maria.
Relationships: Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 139
Kudos: 388





	1. Hate Me

Michael hated funerals.

They were too tragic for what already felt like a pretty tragic existence, and he made a point of avoiding them at all costs. Sometimes, though, they were inevitable.

Like with Noah’s. He hadn’t wanted to go, hadn’t even _planned_ to go. But his sister had needed him, and he showed up. Granted, he was drunk and could smell the sweat pouring off his own body, but he showed up.

He’d been beyond uncomfortable then; seeing his sister cry, knowing who her tears had really been for, his brother’s picture up on the stage as if the world was bidding _him_ goodbye. And Michael had been all too aware of the airman sitting a few seats ahead, his back turned to him, and wanting nothing more than to crawl into his lap and breathe him in and never move again.

Of course, things had gone differently than Michael had wanted, because don’t they always? Maybe if he’d done as he’d hoped for, things wouldn’t have gone the way they’d gone. Maybe Michael wouldn’t be standing against the wall of Gregory’s living room now while the Manes Men, with stony-faces that betrayed no emotion but could so easily be mistaken for grief, greeted guests in black and nodded their heads in stiff thanks for praising their late father. Jesse Manes, the hero.

Now, don’t get Michael wrong. He’d wanted the bastard gone since he was a teenager, but things were different now. There was something so . . . unsatisfying about the way he’d died, as if there was still unfinished business left between him and his sons. And Michael, too, for that matter.

Not to mention, and the thing that had Michael’s leg bouncing against the wall, was that he couldn’t find Alex. It had been an hour since the airman had caught his brother Gregory’s eyes and excused himself from his guests, an hour since he’d mustered a small smile that confirmed the conflict swirling in his mind more than it had reassured anyone, an hour since he’d walked past Michael out the door as if he couldn’t even see the cowboy. And he hadn’t come back yet.

Michael had managed to keep himself from searching the house only because of Max who’d come to stand beside him at the beginning of the funeral and refused to leave his side since. Isobel wanted to make herself useful, so she’d started handing out water bottles, filling wine and juice glasses, passing around trays of food that Arturo had brought, at Arturo’s insistence.

“It’s not for that man,” Arturo had said, the same reason Isobel had had for wanting to help. “It’s for the boys.”

Gregory caught Isobel and whispered something in her ear. Her frown deepened and she nodded before making her way to Michael and Max.

“Have you guys seen Alex?” she asked.

Michael’s shoulders fell. “Greg doesn’t know where he is?”

Isobel looked back at Gregory as he turned and said something to Flint and – the recently-returned Manes Man – Clay, who looked more like Gregory than he did Flint and Alex.

Flint raised a brow at whatever Gregory had said, but Clay only shook his head, as if trying to reassure Gregory. _“He’s fine,”_ Michael read Clay’s lips, and something else that he couldn’t focus on.

“He’s just worried,” Isobel said. “He said he might know where Alex went, but he just wants to make sure he hasn’t made himself sick somewhere.”

Michael’s patience snapped. “Okay. That’s it,” he said, and went off down the hall with Max and Isobel behind him.

He opened every door to every room he came across, calling Alex. But Alex wasn’t in any of the bathrooms or the bedrooms, he wasn’t in the kitchen and he wasn’t in the broom cupboard.

“Michael, he’s _fine_ ,” Max said. “He’s an Air Force Captain, it’s not like he could get himself killed without anyone noticing.”

“I just need to see him,” Michael muttered.

Finally, at the end of the second floor hallway, they came across a string attached to a panel in the ceiling.

“The attic?” Isobel offered.

Michael used his powers to bring the panel down, and a small ladder revealed itself. He glanced back at his siblings. The attic had a low ceiling that forced the three to crouch slightly to avoid being hit. There were taped cardboard boxes against the walls, some labeled _Mom’s Quilts, Books and Puzzles,_ and even, _Alex’s Toy Planes and Music Sheets_. Board games for Clay, action figures for Flint, and things left over from the Navy that seemed to be covered in even more dust than anything else. There were carved wooden chairs and dreamcatchers and baskets, all moved aside to make a narrow pathway in the small room.

Max suddenly grabbed his shoulder, but Michael had already spotted him. Curled in the far corner, almost completely hidden by shadows, was Alex, his face buried in his knees pulled up to his chest.

“Alex,” Michael breathed and crossed the short path to him, falling to his knees beside him. “Alex?”

But Alex wouldn’t respond. He stirred slightly, and Michael understood why.

“He’s asleep,” he said. He put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, usually more than enough to wake him up, but Alex only stirred again and slept on.

“He must be really out of it,” Max said. “It must’ve been a while since he’s slept.”

Isobel looked to her brothers. “Well? What do we do? It just feels mean to wake him up now.”

“Let him sleep,” Michael said, already sitting down next to him. “Tell Greg he’s up here and he’s fine.”

“And you?” Max asked with a raised brow that suggested he already knew what Michael was planning. “You’ll just stay up here with him?”

Michael leaned his head back against the wall. His eyes hadn’t moved off Alex since they’d found him. “He needs me,” was all he said as his airman breathed soundly, inhaling shakily every now and then, as if he suffered even in his dreams.

That seemed to be good enough his brother and sister. Max patted his shoulder before Michael heard them both retreating back down the attic, down the ladder, and close the entrance behind them, muffling the sounds of the funeral downstairs.

It felt weird, the sun shining through the small circular window in the attic, the dust dancing in the light, Michael and Alex surrounded by relics of the past that hinted at a more peaceful time and yet not peaceful at all, Alex’s soft, deep breathing the only thing to be heard. It felt weird because it didn’t feel weird at all. This was Michael’s place, it had _always_ been Michael’s place; right beside Alex, protecting him, caring for him, loving him.

Michael suddenly shivered and looked around the attic. He half-expected to find an enemy staring at them, preparing to strike, but he was met with nothing but dusty boxes and old toys.

_Weird_ , he thought. _I could’ve sworn I felt someone watching us . . ._

Alex stirred again, pulling Michael out of his thoughts. Alex tilted near the wall, and Michael realized just in time that he was about to fall over. He wrapped his arms around the airman, keeping him curled up, and pulled him in the other way so that he was leaning against Michael instead.

Alex made a small noise like a kitten whose nap was being disturbed, and Michael went very still. He eventually melted against Michael though, his head on Michael’s shoulder as he exhaled deeply. Michael carefully tightened his hold on Alex, and slowly came to rest his own head on the airman’s.

It was hard to think of enemies and evil when he had Alex so close to him, asleep in his arms. He inhaled Alex’s scent, his eyes fluttering shut. He had no idea when Alex would wake, but was content just holding him for however long it took.

*

Alex smelled old paper and rain.

He was curled against a body, and imagined it was Forrest. He snuggled deeper into the warm chest and his brows furrowed as he remembered that Forrest had returned to New York weeks ago. Maybe it was Gregory?

The arms around his shoulders and knees tightened and he felt a pair of lips against the top of his head.

He mumbled something incoherent to his own ears and rubbed his eyes with his fists. His vision cleared instantly, though his body still felt like lead. He saw himself surrounded by his brothers’ and mom’s old things, the sun setting now and blaring through the small window, bathing the attic in gold and casting long shadows against the walls. Alex looked down at the arm around him, the familiar green flannel and calloused hand and dirt-stained nails. He recognized the scratchy stuff against his cheek and jaw as chest hair.

He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, but as if he was addicted to him even in sleep, Michael’s arms around Alex tightened and he leaned in against him, their foreheads pressed together.

Alex’s heart stuttered in his chest and his cheeks were warm, but he shoved the feeling down. He put his hand on Michael’s shoulder and shook him slightly.

“Guerin . . . _Guerin_ , wake up.”

“Hm?” Michael’s eyes opened, bleary and hazed. “Alex?” he muttered, his arms falling away from Alex to rub his face. Alex stretched his legs out in front of him, wincing. How could he have been so stupid to hug his knees like that? He knew his leg would be paying for it for the next week.

“What happened?” he asked. “Why are we up here?” He gasped when he remembered. “The funeral.” He pushed himself up and swayed slightly, but managed to keep his footing. He was dusting off his black suit as Michael stood after him, grabbing his cowboy hat off the floor.

“You disappeared, Private,” he said hoarsely and cleared his throat. “You were gone for a while. I found you up here.”

“Disappeared?” Alex frowned. “No, I didn’t, I – I went to the bathroom for a _minute_.”

“A minute turned into an hour,” Michael said.

There was something about the way Michael was staring, as if he thought the few feet between them were too much and wanted to close the distance again, that had Alex looking away, his face red.

Alex sighed, rubbing his temples. “I must’ve really been running myself into the ground.”

“You must’ve,” Michael nodded. “You feeling better now?”

Alex hesitated. _Did_ he feel any better? He didn’t think he did. On the contrary, he felt on edge, as if someone had just been snooping through his room and he _knew_ something was missing but didn’t know what.

But he glanced at Michael who was still staring intently at him, and something in the back of his mind warned him against the truth. What if Michael made fun of him? What if Michael made too much of a big deal about it? Or worse. What if he didn’t care? Alex didn’t think he could handle indifference, and indifference seemed to be the route Michael liked to take with him more than anybody else.

He straightened his shoulders. “I’m fine,” he said. “Obviously.”

Michael looked like didn’t believe him in the slightest, but he smirked tightly. “Obviously.”

Alex looked down, unable to take Michael’s eyes on him anymore. He straightened his coat. “I’m gonna go back down there. You can do whatever you want.”

He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m right behind you.”

Alex refrained from sighing as he turned away. “Right.”

When Alex had got back downstairs, there were still plenty of guests to deal with, but it had been Clay’s arm around his shoulders that really told him he’d been needed. He felt guilty and confused beyond reason. What had he been doing in the attic? Why had he decided to go there at all, and how on earth had he fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position? Should it have frightened him that he didn’t remember?

He woke up late the next morning on a mattress in the living room, his concern about the previous day gone. Clearly, he’d been too exhausted to think properly. If he could sleep _at all_ at night, then he must’ve been pushing himself harder than he thought.

He lay awake that morning, staring at the ceiling, as he thought of Michael following him downstairs, feeling Michael’s eyes on him, even as he stood with his brothers. Michael had not wanted to be at Jesse Manes’s funeral, Alex knew that better than anybody, but he’d been there for Alex himself, just as all his other friends had.

Alex rolled over in his makeshift bed, stuffing his face in his pillow, hoping it would be enough to suffocate him. Michael had been there for him, and he’d shut him out, unwilling to rest against him for a minute longer even though that was all he had wanted to do.

But there was a line. There had been a line since Alex had discovered exactly _how_ Michael and Maria had broken up, since he’d found out what Michael had said, since Michael had walked out during his song and never been able to explain why afterwards. There was a line that separated them, a line meant to protect Alex from ever feeling so unwanted again. A line Alex _had_ to remember and respect if he ever wanted to move on.

Not for the first time, Alex wished he had Forrest there to be a good distraction, a kind face and a beautiful smile and warm words. He wanted Forrest now for the same reason he’d always wanted Forrest; he wanted to try his hand at happiness, he wanted to be with someone who trusted he was the good guy, he wanted someone to choose him, not because the first choice had opted out, but because _he_ himself was the first choice.

Gregory called him in for breakfast and Alex wanted more than ever to be swallowed by the earth and never allowed to rise again. Eating with his brothers was about as pleasant as he expected it to be. Flint had left before dawn for the base and wouldn’t be returning to the reservation. Clay had just grabbed a piece of toast, completely foregoing the scrambled eggs and bacon Gregory had made. He punched Gregory’s shoulder, ruffled Alex’s hair, and with a quiet “I’ll see ya, guys,” he was gone without a word as to when he would be coming back or if he would call for the next six months.

“Your leg still hurt?” Gregory asked as they sat across from each other at the small breakfast table. Too late, Alex realized he’d been rubbing his thigh all morning.

“Sort of,” he said, then added, “but I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Gregory scoffed. “So am I.”

Alex stared, picking at his eggs with his fork. He leaned in. “Our whole lives, what did dad try to hammer into us more than anything else?”

“What a Manes Man is,” Gregory said without hesitation, as if he could still hear their father warning them with his cold, piercing voice. Alex could still hear him, too.

“Yeah, and it was crap,” Alex said. “Evil man with evil life lessons. And in the end, he was going to kill his own bloodline. He was losing his mind, Greg, you’re not the bad guy, okay?”

Gregory said nothing for a while. Then –

“When you tell yourself . . . that you don’t love Michael Guerin anymore . . . because of what he’s done,” he looked up. “Does it work?”

Alex said nothing. Gregory gave him a small, sympathetic smile, and whispered, “Yeah. Me neither.”

Alex wanted to stay with Gregory, but with the end of his enlistment coming up, there was more than a little work to do left in Roswell. As he took in the wide plains of the reservation with memories of his mother and grandfather, adventures he’d had when the world had seemed like a kind and caring place, before he’d discovered that happiness and love were things you had to fight for, he found himself all the more reluctant to leave.

Roswell had the same desert grounds, the same wide open sky, but it was _different_ in all the ways that mattered.

“You know I have a guest bedroom,” Gregory said as Alex got into his car. “You don’t have to stay there forever.”

Alex thought of Michael, of the cold distance between them now. He imagined not having to avoid Michael’s eyes, not having to run from him or the Wild Pony or friends that didn’t feel like friends anymore.

As he put his seatbelt on, he thought of Forrest’s departing words as he’d kissed him goodbye and ruffled his hair.

_“Sometimes it feels like the Manes legacy is too much for one man to take. Don’t stay here, Captain. I don’t think you’ll ever stop being a Manes if you do.”_

That legacy had cost him so much. Michael, he thought, had been the last straw.

“I’ll think about it,” Alex promised in the end, and with a goodbye to his brother, drove off down the dirt road that led back the way he’d come.

*

Michael had thought that after the funeral, the creepy chill down his spine would be gone, but still, wherever he turned, he felt as if someone was watching him.

The only times he felt like he could rest was when he’d come into the bunker and find Alex sorting through old files and new cases to take home with him. None of them liked to linger much in the bunker since Jesse passed, always half-wary that he’d set some kind of trap the last time he’d been there that would activate upon their entrance. It didn’t, but that didn’t make any of them any more relaxed to be in there.

“Hey,” he said when he walked in one morning to see Alex in his fatigues, transferring coded emails and records onto his computer.

“Hi,” Alex said, half-distracted.

Michael hadn’t seen him in a week, not since he’d left the reservation, and found himself moving closer without even thinking about it.

“How long have you been back?”

“About two days,” Alex said, his brows furrowed at something on the screen.

“You’re still tracing alien heat signatures?”

“Yep,” Alex muttered. “Just you three so far. Though I keep thinking I’m getting a signal here and there.”

“Mr. Jones must be playing around.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex sighed. “If he could just stand still for half a minute, I’d have his ass.”

Michael couldn’t help but smile. That was Alex; unafraid, never swayed by difficulty, always sure he’d stop the bad guy. Michael remembered when Alex had come to him the night of Noah’s attack, had told him that he’d wanted to be the guy who won battles. Michael hadn’t believed him then, hadn’t believed in his strength and love. He’d never stopped paying for it.

“I trust you,” said Michael. “If anyone can help us stop this lunatic, it’ll be you.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Okay,” he said after another few minutes of Michael pretending to look over the coded emails himself while really just glancing at Alex when he wasn’t looking. He started packing up his things. “I have to get to the base.”

“They’re not easing up on your hours with your enlistment ending?”

“ _Easing up_ is not really what the military does.”

_If you want_ , Michael almost offered. _I can drive you._

He wanted to spend a little more time with Alex. Having finally seen him, he couldn’t think of anything worse than being separated again. But he couldn’t stand that _look_ Alex was giving him, as if he couldn’t understand why Michael was still there, still talking to him. Had he really screwed up so badly that Alex thought he would be the last person Michael would want to be around? Had Michael really done such a bad job at showing Alex how much he meant to him?

“Right,” he ended up saying instead of any of that. “Well, have fun.”

Alex scoffed and Michael’s smirk fell as soon as the door shut behind him.

*

Alex stood outside the door to the Wild Pony that night, his arms crossed tightly. He looked over to the parking lot, half-expecting to find Michael’s airstream. But it wasn’t there.

_No_ , he thought. _It wouldn’t be anymore, would it? Not since Maria broke things off. Not Michael. Maria._

Alex took a deep breath, clearing himself of the thoughts. He opened the door to the Wild Pony, expecting to find Michael at the bar, but once again, his expectations were proven wrong. Michael was at the furthest table from where Maria was working, Isobel beside him and Max across from them. Max and Isobel seemed to be in an intense discussion, but Michael was staring at the glass of whiskey he was playing with, tilting it on its edge, looking drunk and thoroughly miserable.

Alex frowned, and made his way to their table.

“Thank god,” Isobel said the second she spotted him. “Someone with a brain.”

Michael straightened in his seat, his eyes on Alex, but Alex slid into the empty seat beside Max. “What’s going on?”

Max sighed. “We’re starting to worry that Mr. Jones’s signature is different from ours.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “How would that be possible?”

“He’s been waiting a long time for us, hasn’t he?” Max said. “Maybe he developed new powers.”

“But _no one_ can change their genetic code,” Isobel said, exasperated, then looked to Alex. “Can they?”

“He’s definitely appearing on my scans,” Alex said. He wished Michael would stop staring at him, it wasn’t helping him think properly. “It’s just very infrequent. It’s like . . . it’s like he’s teasing us or something.”

“But how is he doing it?” Michael asked. “He can’t just vanish into thin air whenever he wants, that shouldn’t be possible either.”

Alex sighed. “No offense, but none of you should be possible either.” He hesitated, then quietly said, “I . . . have a theory.”

The others leaned in, suddenly attentive. Alex blushed and cleared his throat. He was a captain, he had a whole team whose eyes were on him all the time. He still couldn’t figure out how Michael’s eyes were enough to have his heart crawling into his throat.

“The only things my scans _can’t_ read are the pods, even though they’re supposed to be living organisms. I think . . . well, I think it’s because they’re hidden deep in the caves.”

“So,” Isobel shook her head. “What, you think Mr. Jones is hiding in a cave?”

“Not just any cave,” Alex said. “The deepest and darkest in Roswell. That much rock is the only thing thick enough to hide another lifeform.”

Max shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything about this sooner?”

“These caves were used a long time ago to hide precious military findings,” Alex said. “They lead deep, _deep_ into the earth, and the walk alone is worth half a day.”

“You think Uncle Sam’s little diggers are still down there?” Michael asked. Alex tried not to smile.

“No, I looked into the records. The caves were shut down more than fifty years ago.”

“For what?”

Alex winced. “Being incredibly unstable. It may not look it, but the caves’ structures are incredibly fragile. If we go down there, and we find Mr. Jones and a fight breaks out . . . there’s a good chance the ceiling might collapse on us.”

The three fell back again in their seats, staring ahead as if envisioning the damage.

“We could be buried alive,” Isobel said faintly.

“Unless the falling rocks kill us first,” Michael said, and at a look from Max, held his hands up in apology. “Sorry, not helping.”

Isobel, Michael, and Alex looked to Max, waiting for his decision. He took a deep breath, and nodded. “Looks like we have a plan.”

Isobel looked wary, but Michael seemed pleased.

Alex frowned. “ _This_ is why I didn’t want to tell you guys in the first place –”

“We have to try,” Michael said. “We’ve already looked everywhere else. Alex, _you_ shouldn’t come.”

“Oh, please, Guerin,” Alex said. “You _need_ me down there. I’m sorry, but which of you is certified to handle military equipment?” No one answered. “Besides, that’s not the issue. The issue is _you_ could all die because of my _guess_! I could be wrong.”

“I don’t think you are.”

Alex grit his teeth. “ _Guerin_. The only reason I told you at all is so you’d know Mr. Jones was still in Roswell.”

“Then we have to stop him,” Isobel said.

Alex huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Listen_ _to me_. If I’m wrong, we go down there and risk a collapse. If I’m _right_ , then this whole thing could be a trap set up by Mr. Jones.”

“All the better,” Max said. “We knew Mr. Jones was setting up a trap anyway. Now we can prepare ourselves.”

Alex wanted to keep arguing, but the others already looked adamant in their decision. Alex slumped down in his seat. “I knew I should’ve just gone home tonight.”

*

There was nothing really like watching Alex prepare for battle.

While Liz was still away to California and things were still a little awkward between Michael and Maria, Alex was the only human they felt like they could still confer to, which meant that his time was kind of split between whichever sibling wanted him more.

Max, it turned out, loved having a friend to talk to about Jane Austen and JRR Tolkien and other authors Michael always forgot the names of. Isobel loved having Alex around because he was nice and smart and didn’t argue with her when she liked to be the most fabulous in the room. Michael loved him because . . . he _loved_ him.

As Alex checked the ammunition in his gun and easily pushed it into the holster at his hip, Michael swooned so hard he hit his knee against Max’s desk. It wasn’t the Alex that he’d known when he was seventeen. There was no hesitance, no tears, no guitar strapped to his shoulder or rolled up music sheets in his back pocket. But Michael found himself falling deeper and deeper with every passing day, every cell in his body urging him to close the distance between them and wrap Alex in his arms, to pull him into the bathroom and touch him as he so desperately _wanted_ to touch him.

But there was a tenseness in Alex’s shoulders that Michael couldn’t kiss away, because he _knew_ it was directed at him. Alex did not welcome Michael’s touch, didn’t want his hands or eyes on him, didn’t want the memory of what he’d done with one of Alex’s best friends following them.

What Michael would’ve done to turn back time, to undo decisions he’d made with intentions that seemed only cruel and cowardly now. But he couldn’t. And he knew, no matter how badly he wanted it, Alex wouldn’t forgive him for what he’d done. Alex wouldn’t trust his love for him again.

“What?” Alex asked, and Michael realized he’d been staring.

If Michael hadn’t known that Alex was upset with him, he may not have noticed the way he looked uncomfortable now to have the cowboy’s eyes on him. But he did, so he noticed.

Michael looked away. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t long until they were ready and on their way to the caves. Michael sat in the back with Isobel, unable to help but stare as Alex sat in the passenger’s seat alongside Max, relaying the plan for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Stop,” Isobel muttered, nudging him with her elbow. “You’re going to burn a hole through his head.”

Michael glanced once more at Alex to make sure he hadn’t heard Isobel, then he looked out the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” Isobel rolled her eyes. “You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“Would you keep your voice down?” he hissed.

“Just tell him,” Isobel said. She shook her head. “This is ridiculous. Alex.”

Michael’s eyes widened, and he lunged at Isobel, his hand over her mouth.

“What?”

“N-Nothing,” Michael said. “You look nice. That’s all she was going to say.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Oh . . . kay . . .” and he turned back to his conversation with Max.

Isobel licked his hand, and the two pulled away from each other, gagging.

“Do you _ever_ wash your hands?” Isobel spat.

“Alex doesn’t want to be told that I’m staring at him,” he said darkly. “Believe me.”

“Oh, come on, Michael,” she said. “I’ve yet to see you say _one_ nice thing to him.”

“Not that,” he grit out.

“Why not?”

“Because he knows,” Michael snapped, and Isobel turned silent. He sighed, slumping in his seat, his eyes falling on Alex again, as they always did. “He knows. Okay? He doesn’t want to hear it.”

A minute passed, and Isobel nudged him again. “Tell him,” she said softly. “Tell him anyway.”

Michael hesitated, Alex smiled at something Max said, and he tried to remember the last time _he’d_ managed to make Alex smile. He couldn’t.

“No,” he said, memories of Alex disappointed and heartbroken flashing in his mind, warning him against doing more damage. “No.”

In what felt like no time at all, they arrived at the caves’ entrance.

“It’s practically a maze down there,” Alex said, pulling out his gun. “And it’s pitch black, so stick close to me.”

As he said this, Alex’s eyes caught Michael’s, but before Michael could consider it anything important, Alex quickly looked away, busying himself with his pockets.

As they entered the caves, Max and Alex both had their guns raised, and all three of the aliens gathered around Alex as closely as they could without touching him. Isobel didn’t mind. Isobel clung to his free arm, her hand in his, and Alex looked so completely unbothered by this that Michael felt jealousy coursing through every muscle in his body. He wanted to be able to touch Alex so easily, to know that he would be touched back, to feel Alex’s fingers against his own.

Michael got so caught up in his thoughts that he walked straight into Alex, and stepped back quickly with an apology. But Alex was already walking again, unwilling to hear any more “Sorry”s Michael had to give.

They walked for what felt like hours. Alex was beginning to lean more against the walls, his breaths more labored. Michael offered him a hand, but Alex shook his head.

“Thanks,” he breathed, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he tilted sideways. “I’m fine.”

Michael’s jaw clenched. He wanted to scream at Alex for being so stubborn, but every time he tried, the words wouldn’t come. There was a part of him that kept scolding Michael, going, _You’re the one who pushed him away in the end for someone else. How can you blame him if he doesn’t trust you?_

Never knowing how to respond to that voice in his head, Michael followed silently for a few more minutes before he heard Isobel ask, “So you’re packing everything?”

“Just the essentials,” Alex said. “I’ll probably come back for the rest when I have my own place.”

Michael frowned. “Own place? You moving somewhere, Private?”

Alex didn’t look at him as he said, “The reservation.”

Michael stared, his heart falling into his stomach as dread took its place in his chest. “The – uh – the . . . but that’s . . . hours away from Roswell.”

Alex shrugged.

“Wait, hold on,” Michael caught up to him, reaching for his arm and deciding against it at the last second. “You’re really leaving?”

They reached a large clearing, and Alex stopped with a deep, shaky sigh that said nothing good about his leg and the pain he must’ve been in.

“I’ve just been considering it.”

“You’re _packing_ ,” Michael argued, getting angry. Why wasn’t Alex more upset about this? Why was he so calm?

“Okay, Michael,” Isobel tried. “Calm down, he hasn’t left yet –”

“But he will!” Michael almost screamed, his voice echoing off the walls. “He –”

And he stopped with a gasp, his hand against the cave to keep from doubling over.

“Guerin?” he heard Alex say, his voice filled with concern. “Guerin, what’s wrong?”

But Michael couldn’t answer. His lungs were on fire, his bones ached, his muscles felt like steel, weighing him down. He looked up and found his siblings were in the same state. He couldn’t breathe.

“Well, well, well,” they heard, and, eyes wide, they all turned to the opposite end of the clearing where Mr. Jones just emerged. He wore a cowboy hat and flannel, no different that what Max might’ve worn, but while Max had pushed Isobel, Michael, and Alex behind him despite barely being able to stand himself, this toxic copy of his brother smiled wickedly at the sight of them so weak, a gleam in his eyes as if he couldn’t be more thrilled to see them suffering.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said. “You see, I wasn’t expectin’ company. _Max_ ,” he smiled the way a fond relative might smile at a child, “look how much you’ve grown! In, you know, the past two weeks since I saw you.”

Alex put a hand on Max’s shoulder and moved to stand in front of the siblings, shielding them, his gun aimed at Mr. Jones.

“Stay away from them,” he said darkly, “you psychopath.”

His voice was so steady and threatening that had Michael not noticed his right leg twitching and his free hand holding his other up, he might’ve believed that Alex was in no pain at all.

Mr. Jones leaned back against the cave wall, his arms crossed. “Alex _Manes_ , is it? Goodness, it is might nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Michael. Pity y’all didn’t work out, I was really rootin’ for you crazy kids.”

He took one step towards them and a shot went off. Alex had just aimed near his head. He must’ve known exactly where to hit to keep the ceilings from collapsing. He turned his gun ever so slightly to aim between Mr. Jones’s eyes.

“The next one won’t miss,” he warned. “Whatever you’re doing to them, stop it _now_.”

Mr. Jones’s eye twitched, his smirk turned vicious for a split second before it settled to something more like amusement. “You know, I know you Manes Men better than anyone else. Sometimes you’re funny, thinking you’re stronger than any creature in the universe. Sometimes you’re just stupid. But _you_ , Alex . . .”

Mr. Jones sighed grievously. “Well, you’ve been a thorn in my side for too long a time. You’re just . . . too clever for your own good, you know?” He gestured with his chin at Max, Isobel, and Michael, and the three fell to their knees.

Michael choked. It was getting impossible to breathe at all now. He felt like his limbs were on fire and he wanted, more than anything, to let the earth swallow him and never let him go again. Anything was better than this pain.

_No_ , he thought. _Alex. I want Alex._

“STOP IT!” Alex screamed. “LET THEM GO!”

“Oh, I will, I will,” Michael could barely make out Mr. Jones saying. “Believe me, I have plans. But first I really want to talk to _you_ , Alex. Please understand, it’s not me. It’s you.”

“Don’t . . . touch him,” Michael heaved.

Mr. Jones tilted his head at Michael, his eyes narrowed, his grin widened. “Well . . . you shouldn’t be able to _breathe_ , let alone speak. Interesting. You two,” he looked between Alex and Michael, “are so _very_ interesting.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Of course, I’d love to leave well enough alone – except neither of you are really doing very _well_ , are you?” He laughed at his own joke, wiping away an imaginary tear. “Anyway. Look, I’ve been watching you two for a while, and I have to say, brother,” he said to Michael, “I’m on Team Alex here. What you and his _best friend_ did . . .” he chuckled. “ _Woo-wee_ , I thought that stuff only happened on TV!”

“You take another step towards us, and I blow your head off,” Alex threatened, and even Michael was frightened he would really do it.

“Alex, Alex, _Alex_ ,” Mr. Jones sighed, and raised a hand. Alex was suddenly thrown back against the wall, as if an invisible hand had caught his throat and was strangling him.

“Alex!”

“It’s really not polite to interrupt,” he said calmly, though a shadow settled over his eyes, and Michael could’ve sworn he saw something akin to _fear_ in Mr. Jones’s expression. He was genuinely afraid of what Alex could do to him if free.

“Where was I? Uh – rooting for you, utter betrayal – _oh_ , okay. So,” he took a deep breath, “I decided that I would do my part to help my brother finally find happiness.” As he said this, he came closer and closer to Michael.

“No,” Max gasped, trying to reach Michael first, but Mr. Jones used his powers to blast him and Isobel back against the wall, too.

Mr. Jones knelt in front of Michael and forcefully tilted his chin up, all the while smiling as Max might smile but without any of the kindness or love.

“I’m going to help you both, Michael,” he said, moving his palms up to Michael’s temples. “Help you forget the pain and the mistakes.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “And when it all comes back, it’ll hurt like hell. And boy-oh-boy, will I have _fun_ watching you two burn.”

Michael had no idea what any of that meant, but he managed to look to Alex as Mr. Jones’s hands dug into his head.

_Alex_ , he thought desperately, his eyes burning at the fear of losing memory of the man fighting against the invisible hold on his throat to get to Michael now. _Don’t forget Alex. Never forget Alex._

And the last thing he heard before the world turned a blinding, searing white was Mr. Jones’s laugh and Alex screaming his name.

*

“It’s my fault,” Alex muttered, his legs aching but unwilling and unable to stop pacing Max’s living room. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Max said. He stood and gripped Alex’s shoulders, forcing him to stop. “ _It’s not your fault_ , Alex.”

Alex shrugged out of his touch, his eyes burning. “I’m the one who told you about the caves –”

“And you were right!” Isobel stood off the couch. “Look, Dr. Cheekbones said he was fine.”

“Then why are they still in there?” Alex demanded. He shook his head. “I need to see him.”

Max blocked his path to the bedroom. “He’s _fine_. Alex, if it hadn’t been for you, we would never have found our way out of those caves so quickly. You got all of us into the car and drove us back and you haven’t so much as _sat down_ since – the only one that needs rest right now is _you_.”

“I’ll rest when he wakes up,” Alex said.

Isobel was about to say something, but was stopped when Kyle opened Max’s bedroom door.

“You know,” he said, “alien anatomy really isn’t my specialty.”

“Yeah, well,” Isobel said, “Liz is off looking at oceans, so what’s wrong with our brother?”

Kyle sighed, removing his gloves. “There’s no physical injury, and I’ve examined him for possible head trauma – _nothing_. He just . . .” he hesitated, glancing at Alex. Alex noticed and stepped forward.

“ _What_?”

He shrugged. “He keeps asking for you, Alex.”

Without question, Alex ran past Kyle into the bedroom and found Michael forcing himself into a sitting position.

When he saw Alex, he smiled. “ _Alex_ –” he barely managed before Alex threw himself onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders, his face buried the crook of his neck.

“Whoa,” Michael breathed, his arms around Alex’s waist tight. “I should get attacked more often.”

Alex huffed a chuckle, though it may have been more of a sob, he didn’t know, when he realized how close they were, and he immediately pulled back. Michael’s hands on his waist never fell away.

“S-Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his face roughly.

Michael shook his head and pulled Alex in against him for another hug, pressing his face into Alex’s shoulder. Alex, surprised, just let himself be held for another moment, his hand against Michael’s heartbeat, reassuring himself that Michael was alive and safe.

When he pulled away again, Michael’s hand cupped his jaw. Alex took his wrist and pushed it down.

“Do you remember what happened?” Alex demanded at once. “Do you feel any different? Do you have a headache? Do you remember Max and Isobel?”

“Whoa, _whoa_ ,” Michael chuckled, and it seemed so much lighter than usual that Alex couldn’t help but be both at ease and slightly concerned all at once. He took Alex’s face in his hands again without a moment’s hesitation, and pulled him in to press their foreheads together.

“I feel fine, baby,” he said, and Alex’s brows furrowed at the nickname. “I’m just glad you’re okay. When I saw you pushed against the wall like that . . .”

He trailed off, and Alex pulled away again with a dubious chuckle. “Y-Yeah. I was scared, too. But after he attacked you, he just disappeared. I don’t know how he did it.”

“Maybe it’s a new power?” Michael suggested, thoughtlessly taking Alex’s hand and playing with his fingers.

Alex cleared his throat and retracted his hand. “M-Maybe.”

“Hey,” Michael said, tugging on his sleeve. “Come sit next to me. I want to hold you.”

Alex stared. “ _What_?”

Thankfully, Michael didn’t repeat his request because, right then, Max and Isobel came in, looking Michael over for injuries as Alex had done.

Isobel came over to hug Michael, too, and Alex used the distraction to pull himself to his feet, wincing at once and almost falling back against the wall. Now that the adrenaline had faded, his body was beginning to catch up with itself. He felt as if he might faint, his mind spinning. Kyle and Max caught him immediately and helped him into an armchair.

“Alex,” Michael tried to get out of bed, but Alex shook his head at him.

“I’m fine,” he breathed. “I’m okay. Are _you_ sure you feel okay?”

“I’m fine, too,” Michael said, still staring at Alex as if hoping to heal him with just his mind.

“How is that possible?” Isobel said. “Mr. Jones looked like he was about to fry your brain. Did he just . . . change his mind?”

“Maybe he was trying to psych us out?” Max said. “Show us he could scare us without even doing anything?”

“Well, it worked,” Isobel said. “I really thought he was going to. . . .” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Michael’s fine.”

_Michael’s fine_ , Alex kept repeating to himself. Michael was okay, he was safe, and Alex was exhausted. He needed to go home and sleep for about another hundred years.

He said as much to the others as he pushed himself to stand, and though Isobel and Max thanked him for coming along, Michael swung his legs off the edge of the bed.

“Wait, I’ll come with you.”

Alex frowned, glancing at the others who seemed equally surprised. “Uh – that’s okay, Guerin, I was just gonna go home.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael said, and used Isobel’s arm to stand. “Maybe I can finally sleep when I’m in your bed, you know? I feel like crap.”

He came up behind Alex, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing against him sleepily, as if already imagining himself curled around Alex in bed.

Alex looked to Max for help, and Max started out of his confusion to pull Michael off Alex.

“Hey!” Michael complained. “What the hell, Max?”

“Okay,” Max said. “Clearly, you’re exhausted. But you can’t go home with Alex, remember?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Isobel shook her head. “I’ve heard of taking care of the sick, but this is just pushing it, don’t you think?”

Michael looked annoyed with his siblings. “Why’s everybody acting so weird?” he demanded. “I told you, I feel completely _fine_ , I can handle sleeping with my boyfriend!”

No one said anything for a long time.

Surprisingly, it was Kyle that first broke the silence. “What did you just say?”

“What?” Michael rolled his eyes. “You want me to spend the night in for observation? I told you, Valenti, there’s nothing wrong with me!” When no one said anything or stopped staring, Michael huffed, looking to Alex. “Alex, would you tell them? Tell them there’s nothing wrong.”

When Alex didn’t say anything, Michael’s expression faltered. “Hey,” he said softly, closing the distance between them, holding Alex’s face in his hands. “Are you okay, baby? You look pale.”

Alex stared, his brows furrowed, his eyes wide. “Boyfriend?”

“What is it?” Michael answered quietly, as if they were having a private conversation, his eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me.”

Did Michael think they were dating? Was that what Mr. Jones had done? He’d planted a fake memory in Michael’s mind? One look at Max, and Alex knew they were both thinking the same thing. But was that the worst of it?

“G-Guerin,” Alex shook his head, not wanting to ask but knowing that he had to. “W-What about . . . Maria?”

Michael frowned. “ _Who_? DeLuca, you mean?” He shook his head. “What about her?”

“Don’t –” Alex started, stopped, and started again. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember her.”

“Of course I do,” Michael said, surprised. “But I don’t know why you’d want _her_ here. All she and I ever do is fight. I thought it drove you crazy.”

“ _Fight_?” Isobel said, looking more and more worried now. “What about the past _year_?”

“What _about_ it?” Michael demanded, clearly frustrated now.

“Michael,” Alex grabbed him by his elbows, easily holding his attention. “Think hard. Who were you dating this past year?”

“What kind of question is that? I know who my own boyfriend is,” Michael said, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist with a nervous smile, as if afraid Alex was going to push him away again and couldn’t understand why he would ever do it.

But Alex didn’t push him away. He was too shocked, horror dawning as he realized exactly what memory Mr. Jones had taken.

“Please just tell me,” Alex whispered. “Tell me who you’ve been dating.”

“ _You_ , Alex,” Michael said softly, holding him more tightly as if hoping to reassure him, not realizing that he was doing the exact opposite. “I’ve only ever dated you.”


	2. Just This Moment

Alex remembered the last time he’d cried before all those years when he didn’t.

He’d walked into his parents’ bedroom to find his mother packing her things.

“Where are we going?” he had asked, his voice cracking. Because he knew. As young as he was, he’d known what was coming for a while now.

“Nowhere,” his mother had said. She had tried to sound kind, reassuring, but all Alex had heard was the finality in her voice. No. _They_ wouldn’t be leaving. She would.

Tears had fallen as Alex had clutched his toy plane, the toy plane his father had bought him a year ago for his birthday.

His mother hadn’t told him not to cry. His father only ever did that. So Alex had cried, even as his mother had held him and cried into his hair, even as she kissed him goodbye, even as his brothers had shut themselves in their rooms, even as their father had locked them in the house and left for some mysterious work for the night, which Alex would discover – many years later – involved a building called Caulfield and having a hand in torture that seemed unreal to this day.

He’d cried that day, and he’d fallen to sleep crying. But by morning, he felt numb. His body had dried out. It didn’t want to cry and Alex didn’t try to force it. He’d merely gotten out of bed, his toy plane having left indentations in his cheek from falling asleep against the wing, and life had gone on. He’d sparingly talked to his mother, he’d spent time with his friends, he’d been beaten for something he didn’t understand and then beaten again for something he _did_.

He’d been abandoned by his closest friend and first crush because popularity had been more appealing, he’d been instilled with military discipline way before war ever took him in, and he’d contented with being on the bottom of everyone’s list. And all the while, he never shed another tear.

Until Michael Guerin. Because wasn’t Michael Guerin always the exception?

Alex woke up slowly in his bed to early dawn peeking through his windows, turning the shadows in the room to light, and as he fell back against his pillows with a faint groan, Alex immediately ran through what happened yesterday after Michael had woken up, as if his brain was eager to remind him. As if he hadn’t been in a haze since then, thinking of what Michael had said and what he himself had done.

_“_ You _, Alex. I’ve only ever dated you.”_

Alex hadn’t expected to burst into tears then, but he’d been awake for too long, his leg had been aching so badly that he could barely sit, let alone stand, and Michael had been so warm that before Alex knew it, his eyes filled with water. A sob escaped his lips and he furiously wiped his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

Max, Isobel, and Kyle had still been in the room, but none of them had said anything. Michael was as shocked about Alex crying as Alex was.

“Hey,” he’d breathed, attempting to cup Alex’s face despite Alex attempting to squirm away from him. “ _Hey_ , it’s okay. Look at me, baby, I’m okay.”

He’d tried to hold Alex, to wrap his arms around him, but Alex had cried even harder.

“Oh my god,” he’d heard Michael whisper, and his hold on Alex tightened. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m right here, it’s okay.”

“Michael,” Max had finally come to pry his brother off Alex, tugging on his arm. “Maybe you should –”

“What?” Michael had frowned. “ _No_.”

“Seriously, Michael,” Isobel said, her hand on his shoulder. “I think you should let him go.”

“Would you guys _look_ at him?” Michael had demanded, pulling Alex in tighter against him, even as he squirmed. “He needs me!”

But Alex had found his opening and managed to finally pull away from Michael’s hold. It wasn’t until an hour later that Max and Kyle came back into the living room.

“Isobel’s with him now,” Max had said. “Trying to calm him down.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex had croaked and cleared his throat. “I – I didn’t” – he huffed – “I just didn’t expect to –”

“Don’t,” Max had shaken his head, sitting on the armrest of the couch, his arms crossed. “You don’t have to explain. You’re tired. We all are.”

“Yeah,” Kyle had said with a smile as he sat down beside Alex. “I’d say you were about due.”

Alex had started to smile until Kyle put a hand on his knee. He had winced, Kyle had noticed, and demanded that he either drive Alex home to rest, or drive him to the hospital where he would be _forced_ to take it easy.

“I can’t leave Michael like this,” Alex had said, but at Max’s insistence that they would all figure out what to do together in the morning, Alex begrudgingly accepted, and only because the pain had gone from his leg to his entire body, making it near impossible for Alex to even _speak_.

So now here he was, in bed, finding himself, as he had the morning following the funeral, staring at the ceiling, his sheets hanging low on his hips. He wanted to stay in bed forever, to keep himself locked up until the end of time, until he had a reason to get up.

Then a knock came at the door, and Alex sighed into his pillow. _There’s your reason_ , the universe seemed to be saying.

Alex pushed himself up, and opted for the crutches today instead, given the fact that even putting his prosthetic on felt daunting and brought back leg pains that he knew he’d be suffering for the next month.

In his sweats and pale-blue Air Force t-shirt, Alex made his way to the door and opened it, expecting to find Isobel or Kyle or one of his brothers.

Michael, to his surprise, was the one that stood on the other end, a takeout bag in his hands.

“Hey,” he huffed and leaned in, pecking a startled Alex’s lips. “Sorry, I couldn’t get out of the house.” He made his way inside, past Alex, into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter, as if this was something he did a million times.

“Uh – what’re you – _mmh_!” Alex was cut off midsentence as Michael quickly closed the distance between them, kissing Alex fiercely. Alex tried to speak, but Michael was already taking his lips in his own again, as if eager for the taste he hadn’t had in a year.

Michael put his hands on Alex’s waist, pulling him in deeper. When Alex finally managed to pull away to breathe, Michael pressed their foreheads together.

“I was so worried,” he breathed. “When I found out you left, I just wanted to follow you.” He shook his head. “Max and Isobel were acting so weird, and Valenti kept looking at me funny, and . . .” he huffed a chuckle that was colored with relief. “I just missed you. I feel like I haven’t kissed you in _months_. Is that weird?”

Alex clung to the doorframe, eyes wide. “Max and Isobel didn’t tell you?”

Michael raised his brows. “Tell me what? Hey,” he said firmly as Alex’s eyes started to glisten again, “tell me what’s wrong.”

_Damn it,_ Alex thought. If only he could stop crying. But whatever kept back the tears for every other situation, around _every other_ person, it was just broken around Michael. It always had been.

He cupped Alex’s jaw, his thumb gently caressing his cheek. Alex wanted to scream at Michael not to touch him, the thought of his hand cupping Maria’s jaw the same way, his eyes filled with the same tenderness and love they were filled with now.

“They told me you were just tired,” Michael said. “Is that the truth? Is that what made you cry yesterday?”

Alex couldn’t do this. He couldn’t speak softly while Michael stared as if expecting to see love and joy reflected back at him. Alex hadn’t felt either from Michael for too long.

“Guerin,” Alex said, trying to steady his voice. “I – I think you should leave.”

Michael’s expression faltered. “ _What_?”

“I just – I –” he shook his head. He felt dizzy and nauseous and there was a lump in his throat. He was going to fall over. “M-Maybe you should talk to Max and Isobel.”

“Why?” Michael’s brows furrowed. “I told you, they’ve just been acting weird. They tried to keep me from coming – _hey_ , whoa.” Michael seemed to have realized that Alex was unsteady on his leg because the second he tilted to the side, his hand on his head, Michael’s arms were already underneath Alex’s legs and behind his back, carrying him over bridal-style to one of the stools at the counter.

“There you go,” he said. He held Alex’s face, searching for something. Whatever it was he was looking for, he must’ve found it because his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “It’s a good thing I came. I knew you needed me.”

Alex shut his eyes. He tried to wave Michael’s hands away, but Michael only caught his wrist and pressed Alex’s hand against his heart, his shirt open and his chest hair scratching Alex’s palm. He held Alex’s hand there.

“You don’t think I know what you’re like?” he demanded, but he was smiling softly as if Alex was the cutest thing in the world and Michael was still marveling at his own luck. “When the going gets tough, the tough deal with it all by themselves, right? All that Manes Man crap still imbedded in that beautiful head of yours.”

He pressed a hard kiss to Alex’s forehead, then his nose, then each of his eyes. “How many times do I have to say it, Private? You’re not getting rid of me.”

“Guerin . . .”

“Shh,” Michael kissed his lips softly. “I know,” he whispered, “I know you don’t really want me to leave. And I won’t. I’ll never leave you, Alex.”

As Michael kissed the top of his head one more time and pulled away (“I got us breakfast from the Crashdown, by the way,” he said. “I know you have a sweet tooth, so I grabbed you some creampuffs”), Alex was left staring numbly at the place where Michael had been.

_“I know you don’t really want me to leave.”_

Alex stood abruptly, grabbing his crutches.

“Alex?” he heard Michael say, but he made it to his bedroom and closed the door behind him, keeping Michael out as he changed out of his clothes. He swallowed down the pain and forced his prosthetic on. Once he was in a t-shirt, jeans, and a jacket, he came out to find Michael standing against the wall opposite his bedroom door.

Without looking at him, he said, “Come on.”

“What – _Alex_ , you’re limping!”

“Stop talking, Guerin, and follow me,” he commanded. “We’re going to see your brother and sister.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because I can’t play pretend with you,” he muttered so quietly that Michael couldn’t have heard.

Michael had been unwilling to let Alex go without eating, but Alex could barely stand to look at Michael in his kitchen anymore, the feeling of domestic bliss haunting them like a ghost, teasing for what could never be. Because Alex _couldn’t_ have breakfast with Michael and pretend that everything was okay. He _couldn’t_ pretend he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, with any _one_ else. He _couldn’t_ keep sacrificing his heart for Michael when he clearly wasn’t the one who had his whole heart in the first place.

Ultimately, Michael seemed to realize that Alex wanted to go, and he brought the bag of food along with him, urging Alex to have a bite as he drove, per Alex’s instructions, to Max’s house. Alex kept flinching away, his gaze focused ahead, half-expecting to be mocked or yelled at in return, but Michael kept silently insisting.

He was confused, and Alex _knew_ he was confused. As far as he’d known, he and Alex were the ones that had dated all this time. But if only he knew how sick the thought made Alex. Did it mean all of Michael and Maria’s memories were now replaced with Alex? Was he a placeholder in Michael’s mind for Maria, the one he _really_ wanted? Was that Michael’s ideal Alex? Someone like Maria? Someone so unlike himself?

“You’re crying,” Michael said through grit teeth.

“No, I’m not,” Alex croaked and wiped his face, shutting his eyes and forcing his breaths to slow down. “Just keep going.”

Michael said nothing a moment. Then, “Am I the one making you cry? Tell me what I’m doing wrong,” he said almost desperately. “Tell my, baby, and I’ll fix it.”

Alex clenched his jaw against the plea in Michael’s voice. “Keep going, Guerin.”

The rest of the ride to Max’s home passed in silence. Michael kept glancing at Alex, and at one point, Alex felt Michael’s hand take his own. Alex let him, unable to muster the will to pull away. He wanted to cry again, but he pressed his forehead harshly against the cool window until his whole body chilled over. It didn’t work, as Michael’s warmth on his hand seemed to fight against any harm.

When they parked, Alex slipped his hand out of Michael’s and didn’t let him take it again.

Alex knocked on the front door. Barely a second went by before Alex knocked again, harder, but he couldn’t help feeling antsy. Michael had been staring at him the whole time.

Finally, the door opened, and Max took one look at Michael and huffed. “I knew it,” he muttered before he grabbed Michael by the arm and pulled him inside. Alex followed, his arms crossed tightly to ward Michael off.

“Isobel!” Max called as they came into living room. “I was right, he was with Alex.”

Isobel, who had been dialing a number on her cellphone, let it fall and she sighed, relieved. “Good. At least we know Mr. Jones didn’t do anything _else_ to him,” Alex heard her mutter, quietly enough that only he and Max could hear.

“Did you tell him anything?” Max said in the same mutter.

“No, I thought _you_ would,” Alex said with no small amount of exasperation. “Instead he shows up at my house with breakfast. We brought breakfast, by the way.”

“Enchiladas?” Isobel said hopefully.

“I brought breakfast for _Alex_ ,” Michael said, looking to each of them with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What?” Isobel said defensively. “You were attacked yesterday, remember? Forgive us for worrying.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, I do,” Michael said with a smirk that clearly said he did _not_ appreciate the sentiment. “But as I’ve said a _million_ times already – _I’m fine_. I feel fine – _great_ , even! I just want to spend time with my boyfriend, and forget the rest of humanity exists. So, Alex, can we go, please?”

He asked in with such a small, helpless chuckle, as if afraid that Alex would turn away from him and not understand _why_ , that Alex didn’t have the strength to say no. Instead, he glanced at Max and Isobel.

“I – I want to talk to Max,” he said, and Michael looked to his brother.

“Why?”

Instead of answering, Alex grabbed Max’s arm and pulled him along with him down the narrow hallway, into what Alex assumed was a guestroom.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Alex demanded at soon as the door was closed.

“Alex –”

“Max, he showed up at my _house_. He thinks we’re dating!”

“We were afraid, okay?” Max said. “We don’t know what Mr. Jones _did_ to him.”

“We know what he did,” he grit out. “He took away the one memory that’s broken _everything_ between us.”

“And you want us to tell him that?” Max asked, and Alex fell silent. “You want us to tell him that the love of his life can’t stand to look at him anymore because he dated his best friend?”

Alex clenched his jaw. “ _Don’t_ ,” he warned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And maybe it was the tremble in Alex’s voice that he couldn’t help no matter how hard he tried, maybe it was because Max knew those words – _the love of his life_ – weren’t actually true, but Max’s eyes softened and he held up his hands as if trying to calm a frightened deer.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. Look, Alex . . . we don’t know what telling him the truth will do to him. What if it shatters his mind? What if it does something to him that can’t be undone? Do you want to risk that?”

_No, never_ , Alex wanted to say at once. But he didn’t seem to need to. Max took one look at his miserable frown, his jaw clenching and his fingers curling to fists at the unfairness of it at all, and he seemed to understand Alex’s feelings perfectly.

“It’s so hard,” Alex confessed quietly.

“I know,” Max said, because of course he did. He, after all, like Alex, was a protector. “Just because Michael forgot what happened doesn’t mean _you_ have to. I’m not asking you to be the loving boyfriend, Alex, I’m just . . . we just need a little time until we can figure out whether or not it’s safe to tell him. A week, that’s all I’m asking. A week for us to work on it. Please?”

Alex heard Michael’s muffled words from the living room. He stuck his tongue in his cheek, shaking his head. He would _not_ cry again. “All I’ve ever wanted was Michael. Now I have him,” he smirked bitterly, “and I still _don’t have him_.”

Max looked down, and Alex inhaled deeply. “One week,” he said, pointing a warning finger at Max, who’d looked back up hopefully. “ _One_ , Max. Then we tell him. And it’s not for my sake either. He can’t go on living a lie for the rest of his life.”

Without another word, Alex turned and left the room, making his way back to Michael and Isobel who were going through the bag from the Crashdown. Alex stopped at the entrance, looking Michael over. The man that he loved more than anybody in the universe, the man he would’ve died for, the man he’d _let_ himself die for day after day. When he’d wanted to be with someone else. When he’d _chosen_ someone else.

It had always been worth it, to see Michael happy. This was just one more thing. _You can handle just one more thing_ , he told himself as Michael spotted him.

His brows furrowed with concern, and he left the breakfast to Isobel as he came over.

“Hey,” he said softly, cupping Alex’s jaw. “You okay? You look pale.”

Alex searched his face, unable to help but think of the Michael with his memories. So many times, Alex had felt like he was near to sobbing in front of Michael. So many times his eyes had glistened and tears had fallen despite his best efforts to hide them. And Michael had never once touched him like this, never asked him if he was okay. He’d never shown concern, and he’d definitely never cared.

But Alex mustered half a smile, the honest _best_ he could do right now, and subtly moved away from Michael’s touch. “I’m fine,” he said in a voice barely over a whisper. “Just tired. M-My leg still hurts.”

Michael didn’t look like he completely believed him, but he led him to the couch to sit down anyway, sitting right beside him and rubbing soothing circles into his thigh.

Isobel seemed to have realized that Alex wasn’t going to tell the truth either, and he could see relief and gratitude flood her expression. But Alex didn’t want gratitude. It didn’t erase the pain of having Michael’s hands on him, Michael’s kind and loving words in his ear, and all the while knowing that Michael didn’t feel any of what he was showing. Not really.

He couldn’t have, or he would never have run into someone else’s arms when Alex had been waiting for him.

“Who wants breakfast at the Crashdown?” Isobel said, tossing the paper bag in her hands unceremoniously into the fridge.

“I do,” Max said wearily as he came in, raising his hand and leaning against the wall of the living room.

“You guys?” Isobel offered. “Hungry?”

“What do you say?” Michael asked Alex privately, his lips quirking into an encouraging smile. “You want something else to eat?”

Alex glanced at Max and managed another small smile before that, too, fell away. “Sure.”

Michael still looked worried, but his grip on Alex’s shoulder tightened, as if he was just happy that Alex would eat, and he pulled Alex in, kissing his temple, then his cheek. Alex clenched his jaw so tightly he tasted blood.

He wanted more than anything to give into Michael’s lips, his kisses, but he couldn’t, not after he knew they’d touched Maria, too.

“You’re shivering,” Michael said, something very close to fear coloring his voice.

“I’m just cold,” Alex muttered, and stood, eager to be away from Michael already and how badly he didn’t want to be away from Michael at all.

They’d decided to meet up at the Crashdown. Michael and Alex would be going first while Isobel went home to change. It wasn’t until they were halfway to the diner, when Michael and Alex were alone in the truck, that Michael spoke.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you,” he said. “Alex, you know you can tell me anything! Was it Max, did he say something to you?”

“No.”

“Then _what_? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Michael’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Really? Because Isobel’s been hovering over me since I woke up, Max keeps looking at me funny, like he’s waiting for me to tell him some secret I’m supposed to know that I just _don’t_. And _you_ ” – he huffed a miserable chuckle – “you flinch every time I touch you.”

Alex’s shoulders fell. “No, I don’t,” he said softly. When Michael didn’t answer, Alex looked to him. “Guerin, I don’t flinch.”

Michael still looked unconvinced. Alex swallowed past the lump in his throat and took Michael’s free hand that lay between them on the bench. He kissed his fingers roughly, startling Michael, and held his hand against his own chest, over his heart. He interlocked their fingers.

“I . . . I’ve been having nightmares,” Alex said quietly, not looking Michael in the eye. “About, you know, my . . . time away, my team, people I’ve lost. And when I thought I lost _you_ , I – I freaked out.” He sniffed. “I guess I’m still freaking out.”

Michael glanced at him as he drove. He didn’t say anything for a while, but his hold on Alex’s hand tightened. Then, Michael touched Alex’s chin with his thumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Alex shook his head, his words slow. “I . . . guess . . . I didn’t want to look weak.”

Michael frowned, as if offended on Alex’s behalf. “So you get a little scared sometimes, Private, that’s not being _weak_. Remember what I told you that day you came to give me my mom’s file?”

Alex’s brows furrowed. All he remembered of that day was Michael shoving his gift back in his face, telling Alex how much he didn’t want him or his help. Painful confessions, confessions about Michael liking someone else, and having – in a matter of seconds – to process it and accept that he wasn’t anyone special to Michael, not anymore. He was just someone at the bottom of the list, like he was with everyone else.

“When you get scared, I’ll be brave enough for the both of us.” He raised a brow at Alex, grinning. “You think I don’t know how much you do to protect me? You think I wouldn’t give my life to keep you safe? But I don’t want to give up on us because of fear, or because – because it’s too hard. I want to fight. You’re too important, Alex. You’re just way too important to lose.”

Michael pulled Alex’s hand to his own lips and kissed the back of his fingers softly. “I always knew you’d be more than worth it though. So no more hiding things from me, okay? If you’re sad or – or scared, _tell me_. When have I ever looked away when you needed me?”

Alex didn’t answer. He settled back into his seat, feeling both empty and like he wanted to cry his heart out all at the same time. He felt something like a jagged rock in his chest, piercing his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

Now he _knew_ it was all a lie. He’d seen Michael’s disappointment, his anger, his frustration, and – worst of all – his complete resignation at the idea that Alex had ever been worth the fight.

Michael seemed to take the lack of answer, however, as a good thing, and he kissed Alex’s hand again. Alex very pointedly did not flinch.

Walking into the Crashdown had been as nostalgic as always. The rest of the diner went on as familiar scents of spices, eggs, and sugar wafted through the place, waiters bustling around in pale blue and white and antennas, customers chatting at tables and kids enjoying their pancakes. No matter what was going on in the outside world, the Crashdown Café always kept going. It was almost reassuring.

Until Michael bumped his arm affectionately and grazed the back of his hand with his own, and Alex remembered why he was there and who he was with.

“What are you in the mood for?” Michael asked as they made their way to the front counter.

“Uh – anything,” Alex said. Michael put his hand on Alex’s lower back as he leaned against the counter for leverage, as if checking to make sure that he was still okay with being on his feet. Alex tried not to look startled.

“I’m hungry,” Isobel muttered as she sidled up next to them while Max went to find them a table. “Do I want churros? Or pancakes? Or eggs?”

“I thought you said you wanted enchiladas?”

“My cravings change like my moods,” Isobel muttered, looking over the menu. Alex tried to do the same, but realized too quickly that Michael was staring at _him_ instead of the options.

“What are you hungry for, Guerin?” Alex offered, hoping it would be enough to get Michael to avert his eyes.

But Michael just leaned in, nuzzling Alex’s ear, and whispered, “ _You_.”

Alex instinctively put a hand up between them, keeping Michael at a distance as his heart thudded painfully in his chest.

Michael chuckled, covering Alex’s hand on his chest with his own. “I love how easily you embarrass.” He leaned forward despite Alex’s hand and pecked his ear so quickly it may not have looked like a kiss to anyone watching. “My boyfriend’s so cute,” he breathed.

“I – I want eggs,” Alex stammered. “I’ll go wait with Max.”

He caught Arturo’s eyes in the kitchen and found himself grateful that Liz wasn’t there to ask questions. He really didn’t feel like explaining this to anybody.

He thought he heard Michael assure him that he would get him his breakfast, but all Alex could think about was getting as far away from the cowboy as possible.

He released a long, shaking breath as he slid into the booth opposite Max. And he quickly realized it was Tripp’s old booth. When he looked up, Max shrugged and returned to his small paperback which he’d kept in his back pocket.

Alex slumped down in the seat, pulling one knee up to his chest, trying to draw strength from his great-granduncle. Tripp Manes had watched his greatest love suffer and wither away. Alex had Michael here, in front of him, safe after something much worse could’ve happened. He should’ve been grateful – and he _was_. He just wished half of what Michael believed about them was real.

“What’re you reading?” he asked Max for lack of anything better to say.

“Pride and Prejudice,” Max said, waving his paperback. “I could lend it to you sometime.”

Alex hummed. “Sure.”

He spent the rest of the time staring out the window as more cars pulled up. An old song started playing on the jukebox in the background, a baby was screaming, some men in the booth behind them were laughing about something. He wondered what any of these people would do if they knew what Alex knew lurked in the shadows.

He was jostled out of his thoughts by Michael’s familiar scent of rain as the cowboy slid in next to him, two plates in his hands.

“Breakfast for my man,” he said and pecked Alex’s lips as he turned. “You want anything else?”

Alex shook his head, silently reaching for the ketchup. Isobel and Max were watching him with something akin to pity, and Alex wanted to snap that if they wanted him to play boyfriends with their brother, the least they could do was stop staring at him like he was dying.

As they ate, Michael reached over and massaged Alex’s thigh with his free hand. Alex tried to move away, but Michael kept touching him, kept digging his fingers into his leg, and it was both very soothing and very distressing. He wanted to snap at Michael to get away from him, but boyfriends didn’t tell each other that kind of stuff, didn’t flinch away from each other or tremble miserably at the other’s touch.

And the truth, above anything else, was that part of Alex _didn’t want_ to move away. He wanted to feel Michael’s hands on him, on every inch of his body. He wanted Michael closer, he wanted to feel his warmth, the strength of his arms, his chest, his stomach, his legs. He wanted Michael to hold on and never let go. He couldn’t bear to break Michael’s heart now when he looked so happy, and he wanted – more than _anything_ – for that happiness to be real. To not only exist because Michael hadn’t experienced better.

A horrible thought came to mind; if this was how happy Michael seemed with Alex, how much happier had he been with Maria? She didn’t have the problems Alex did, she didn’t have the trauma and the battle scars that came with being a Manes Man.

Alex shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth, preferring to suffocate on peppers than to give his brain any more room to think.

When they were done, Michael leaned against Alex as if trying to recover from a food coma, nuzzling the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent. Alex sat very still and tried to numb his senses, but he was all too aware of Michael’s warm breath on his neck, Michael’s scent engulfing him far more easily than the food could have, Michael’s lips softly brushing his skin as if he was so desperate to kiss Alex he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

Alex thought of that moment, when Michael would seriously try to kiss him, to touch him underneath his clothes, to spend a night with him.

“Hey,” Michael said. “You’re shivering.”

“M’just cold,” Alex muttered, and to keep Michael’s suspicions from arising again, Alex hugged Michael’s arm and slumped in his seat so that Michael’s lips couldn’t reach any lower than Alex’s forehead, facing straight ahead as he held on with a tight grip.

As he expected, Michael pressed a kiss to his forehead anyway, then the top of his head, his other hand coming up to cup Alex’s cheek. Alex’s lids felt heavy under Michael’s touch and he wanted to fall asleep against him.

_“I want to fight. You’re too important, Alex. You’re just way too important to lose.”_

Alex straightened, his fingers digging into Michael’s arm for more reasons than one as the ugly thought forced itself into his mind; _Until I wasn’t. Until I was too much. Until you met someone better._

“Hey,” Michael muttered in his ear as Max and Isobel fell into easy conversation about some party Isobel was hosting at the Crashdown. “You want to get out of here?”

Alex shuddered. He understood the implication of Michael’s tone, the way his eyes raked Alex’s body hungrily. Alex thought of Michael’s hands on him, and felt both a desperate desire to _touch_ , and that same desire to run away, settle like a heavy rock in his chest.

Still, he mustered a smile and turned to touch Michael’s nose with his own. “Don’t you have work at the junkyard today?” he asked quietly.

Michael bit his lower lip and stretched so that he was almost pressed against Alex’s body. “You’re more important,” he whispered before he leaned forward with an open mouth, seemingly to catch Alex’s.

“N-Not in front of Max and Isobel,” Alex muttered, leaning back as Michael’s lips hovered over his, his breath fanning Alex’s and making his heart thrash wildly, his brain running at a million miles a second. All he would have to do was tilt his head up slightly, take Michael’s mouth in a warm kiss.

Michael seemed to notice how badly Alex wanted to kiss him, too, because he glanced at Max and Isobel and smirked. “You’re right,” he breathed, one hand snaking around Alex’s waist and pulling him up against him. “If I started, I won’t be able to stop until I’ve tasted every _part_ of you.”

Before Alex could say anything, Michael closed the distance between them and kissed Alex once, roughly, as if he couldn’t keep himself from doing it. Alex was stiff the first second, and he could feel Max and Isobel watching them, their conversation forgotten.

Alex’s muscles had just began to relax as Michael took his lips in his own again, his eyes fluttering shut, but before they’d closed completely, Michael pulled away with a delicious wet sound, his eyes hazed as he looked Alex over again. He pecked Alex’s lips once more, pressing their foreheads together and saying he had to go. Twice. Because the words didn’t seem to process the first time.

When Michael was finally out of the booth and left the diner with a wink at Alex, Alex turned to face Max and Isobel, their eyes wide.

“Call Kyle,” he said with a sigh. “This is going to be a long enough week.”

Alex paced the bunker, waiting for Kyle to arrive.

“So when I tell you not to put any strain on your leg,” Kyle said with a sigh as he came in, a bag slung over his shoulders, “what do you hear _exactly_?”

“Finally,” Alex said. “Where have you _been_?”

Alex might’ve expected him to raise a brow or scoff at his impatience or even make a joke at his expense. But his best friend only shook his head and avoided Alex’s gaze as he said, “Believe it or not, Manes, looking after aliens is not why I became a doctor.”

Alex pressed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes, and sighed. “I know, I _know_. I’m sorry.” He frowned when Kyle closed the door behind him. “Max isn’t with you?”

“He called, said he got caught up with my mom,” he said with a shrug. “He should be here soon.” He settled into the chair furthest away from Alex, not insisting – as he usually did – that Alex take a seat himself before he lost his limb completely.

“So,” he started with an usual forced lightness in his voice, “how’s the happy couple doing?”

“Awesome,” Alex muttered and huffed as he took the chair closest to Kyle, turning it so that their knees almost touched. Kyle sat up straighter as if eager to be away from him. “Are _you_ okay now?”

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” he said with a small shudder instead, seemingly eager to change the subject. “Being with Guerin like that? Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

_More than I’ve ever been in my entire life_ , Alex wanted to say. It was what he _should’ve_ said. But the truth was, it wasn’t _discomfort_ Alex felt whenever Michael was with him, it was guilt and doubt. Guilt and doubt because of how badly he wanted to be with the cowboy, yet knew that if Michael had truly had the option, he wouldn’t have stayed with Alex. He told Kyle as much, and his friend seemed to search for his gaze for the first time since stepping into the bunker.

“Alex, are you kidding me? Guerin loved you way before his memories were wiped.”

“It’s not that I don’t think he loves me, Kyle,” Alex said desperately. “Liz loves me, _Maria_ loves me, and I know _you_ love me. But Michael . . . he was supposed to be different. He was supposed to _feel_ different. Feel . . . more. . . .”

Alex shook his head, rubbing his face. “Forget it,” he heaved. “I’m not making any sense.”

A pause, then Alex felt Kyle’s hand on his knee. “Yes, you are,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry he wasn’t . . . more.”

Alex looked up, hoping to draw strength from Kyle’s kind eyes, but his best friend still wasn’t looking at him. Before Alex knew it, Kyle’s hand was off his knee, too, as if he couldn’t bear to touch him any longer.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Me?” Kyle said as he rummaged around in his bag. He pulled out a file, realized it was the wrong one, and pulled out another. “I’m fine.”

Alex raised a brow. “Look at me for a second.”

“What?” he huffed a chuckle that gave away just how nervous he was. “What’re you talking about?”

“Just look at me.”

“ _I’m_ looking,” someone suddenly said, and Alex and Kyle both looked to the door to find Michael making his way inside with a smirk. He leaned in, making a clear show of taking Alex’s face in his hands and pressing his lips against Alex’s.

Alex felt Michael’s tongue as if trying to gain entrance into his mouth, and he denied it. Michael seemed happy kissing him anyway.

When he was done, Alex had to refrain from scrunching his shoulders and pulling away. Michael was his boyfriend, it was _normal_ that they kiss in lieu of a greeting. If only he could convince his heart to see it that way.

“I thought you still had work,” Alex muttered, now unable to look at Kyle either.

“I missed you,” Michael said into Alex’s hair, and kissed the top of his head. He wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders. “Can’t a guy come see his boyfriend?”

“A guy can,” Alex conceded quickly. “You’re just in time to hear Kyle explain why he can’t look at me.”

“I can look at you fine!”

“Then do it!”

“Don’t do it,” Michael said, hugged Alex tighter. “I’m the only one who gets to stare.”

Alex tried not to blush at the comment, but the idea of Michael – possessive and watching him – excited him more than he was willing to admit.

_He only wanted you until he found someone better_ , he had to keep reminding himself. _One night with Maria had been enough to undo everything he felt for you. You’re_ not _special to him. You’re not._

Alex lightly tapped Michael’s elbow, not stopping until he was completely released. Michael didn’t look pleased, but Alex tried not to look at him.

“What is it?” Alex said to Kyle, hoping the teasing tone would be enough to lighten the atmosphere. “Did you find someone awful in my family tree? Because I’m way ahead of you. I already know they all sucked.”

“It’s not that!” Kyle said at once, as if offended on Alex’s behalf. “And you’re still related to Tripp Manes, remember?”

“Then what it is?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “C-Can we just focus on the charts, please?”

Before either Alex or Michael could say anything, Kyle had already opened the file.

Michael’s brows furrowed. “These look like _my_ test results.”

“They are,” Alex said, thinking on the spot. “I asked Kyle to look them over. Make sure you’re absolutely okay.”

“Alex,” he said, both exasperated and fond. “ _Baby_ , I told you, I’m fine.”

“Just let me be sure,” Alex said. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t –”

“Leave you?” Michael said, and kissed Alex’s lips. “I’d rather die.”

Alex felt another sting to his chest and once again had to fight to keep the smile on his lips. “Suit yourself.”

Kyle glanced warily between Alex and Michael as he slowly set Michael’s file on the desk. Alex could already understand what he was saying; _How are we going to talk about Mr. Jones_ without _talking about Mr. Jones?_

Alex shook his head slightly, hoping his own silent message would get across; _Just reassure me that there isn’t a bomb in his brain._

Kyle glanced once more at Michael, and cleared his throat before he began pointing to different numbers and charts.

“As you can see here,” he said, “Guerin’s energy levels are the same they’ve always been. There’s been no harm done to his central nervous system, no viruses, no bacteria. He has all the signs of a common amnesia patient – if he _had_ amnesia.” He added quickly as Michael’s brows furrowed. “Which . . . he doesn’t.”

Alex glared. “Interesting theory there.”

Again, he expected Kyle’s bashful grin or the wink he always gave him when he was trying to back out of having said something stupid. But again, Kyle only blushed, realized that they were leaning in closely together, and pulled away quickly.

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” Alex laughed.

“Nothing!”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“So there _is_ something!”

“Would you stop asking please?!” he smiled, though he still wouldn’t meet Alex’s eyes.

It was a few minutes until Alex realized that Michael was still staring at him. When he caught his gaze again, he was surprised to find him frowning.

He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“You . . . haven’t done that with me.”

Alex blinked. “Done what?”

“Laugh,” Michael said, and Alex’s face fell. “You haven’t done that with me. Not since I woke up yesterday. It’s like I only make you cry.”

Alex shook his head. “Guerin –”

He huffed a chuckle, though nothing about it seemed funny. “It’s like . . . you _can’t_ laugh around me.”

“Uh,” was all Alex could say, and the three of them fell into a very awkward silence. Michael wasn’t scowling at Alex like he would’ve if he’d had his memories, but only frowning, as if he’d been triggered into remembering something about Alex’s tears by the sound of his laugh, though he couldn’t remember what.

“I had a sex dream about Alex!” Kyle said suddenly, and Alex and Michael both turned to him with wide eyes. More silence, then Michael’s eyes darkened.

“Come again?”

Kyle looked to Alex, almost helpless. “I – well – I didn’t _want_ to, but . . . y-you know!”

Alex stared. And stared and stared and stared.

Kyle was looking adamantly at Michael’s file on the table, his fingers interlocked tightly, his thumb carving into the back of his hand. He was clearly terrified of bringing this up. But he’d done it anyway, just to keep Michael from his own memories. Just to protect him and Alex.

And Alex was so grateful, he wanted to laugh. So he did.

“You had a sex dream about _me_?” he said. “ _Seriously_?”

Kyle looked up, surprise and hope flashing. “Y-You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why? Wasn’t it any good?”

Kyle watched Alex a moment longer before huffs of relieved laughter sounded. “Sh-Shut up. Shut _up_ , oh my god.”

“What were we doing?” he laughed, clutching his side as came to rest his head on the table. He hadn’t so much as honestly smiled in what felt like forever now, and the relief of it was so overwhelming that his eyes burned and tears wet his lashes.

“Stop it!” Kyle hid his face in his hands, his shoulders still shaking. “I was so terrified of telling you, I couldn’t even _look_ at you!”

“What were the positions?”

“Alex!”

“Was it at least good for you?”

“SHUT UP!”

Alex sat up after what he was sure was an hour and wiped his eyes, his last few chuckles coming out as coughs, and he noticed Michael was less than amused by the news. If anything, he was glaring at Kyle way more now than he’d been earlier. It was actually cute, the way he seemed to want to stand between Alex and Kyle, to hide Alex from Kyle’s view.

Alex took Michael’s hand without thought, kissed it, and pressed it against his own cheek as he said, “Come on, Guerin, lighten up. It’s not like we actually slept together.”

Michael’s eyes softened as he looked at Alex. Still, he was frowning. “It’s not funny, Alex.”

“It’s a little funny,” Alex tried.

“No, it’s not!” he pouted. “What if . . . _Liz_ said she imagined having sex with _me_? Or DeLuca?”

Alex’s smile dimmed completely at the mention of Maria’s name. His hand fell from Michael’s, and for a moment, the cowboy seemed to regret having said anything. But then he came to kneel in front of Alex.

He tried for a smile. “I – I didn’t think I would ruin your laugh. I was just trying to make a point. B-But see what I mean? It’s not great to hear, is it?”

Michael said this as he pressed a hand against the side of Alex’s neck, his thumb caressing Alex’s collarbone beneath his shirt, as if desperate to keep touching him, and knowing that Alex would never push him away. Alex caught Kyle’s glare over Michael’s head. He looked like he was two seconds away from throttling the cowboy.

“No,” Alex said at once, and Kyle looked up. Alex held his gaze with a steady one of his own, warning him. Thankfully, Kyle seemed to understand, though he didn’t look happy about it. Alex certainly didn’t feel any happier about anything anymore either.

He realized Michael was watching him. “No,” he said again. “I couldn’t imagine anything worse. I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, as if he couldn’t imagine what had possibly brought on this sudden shift in tone. But Alex only felt cold. He tried to pull his hand out of Michael’s, but Michael held on. Alex should’ve mustered another smile, but he couldn’t. All the humor and warmth had been sucked out, and he was left feeling like he was always left feeling around Michael nowadays – unseen.

Eventually, Alex had managed to convince Michael to go back to the junkyard for work only by swallowing the lump in his throat and kissing his cheek, a silent promise in his ear that Alex would see him tonight.

Alex had thought Michael would be hard to convince, but this Michael – it seemed – the one who’d always chosen Alex, who’d always had faith in Alex more than anyone else, the one who _believed_ in Alex’s promises – he was quick to smile, to brighten, to lean in and peck Alex’s lips with a breathy “I love you” before leaving. (Not without shooting Kyle a quick warning glare though, as if making sure he didn’t cross any lines.)

“How long are Max and Isobel asking you to do this for?” Kyle said with an edge in his voice.

“A week,” Alex said with a sigh, rubbing his face and trying to clear the scent of Michael Guerin. But it wouldn’t go away. It lingered to him, as if Michael was still there, desperate to hold on.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Fine,” Alex said automatically.

“Alex,” he said more softly. “It’s _me_.”

Alex hesitated. “I – I just . . .” He sighed shakily. “I love him. _So_ much.”

Kyle pursed his lips, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and took Alex’s hands in his. “You know you don’t have to do this, Alex. He made his choice, whether he remembers it or not. It’s never been your job to protect him.” His grip tightened. “You can stop _now_.”

Alex considered it. Considered calling Michael back, and telling him everything. But the truth was, there was nothing to consider at all.

“No,” he said with a simple, helpless smile. “I can’t. It’s Michael, Kyle.”

Kyle nodded, completely unsurprised. “It’s Michael.”

Max and Isobel arrived soon, and when they’d all gathered, Kyle told them that nothing had changed with Michael’s tests at all. The only problem he had, apparently, was selective amnesia.

“So what now?” Isobel asked.

Max looked to Alex, uncertain and nervous, as if waiting for his call.

_It’s Michael_ , Alex thought. There was no choice.

“We wait the week,” he said. “Make sure nothing changes. If he shows no sign of any pain in that time, we’ll tell him.”

“And after that?” Kyle raised a brow.

Alex sighed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. We’ll have to.”

The rest of the day, thankfully, had gone by much faster. As Alex could do nothing else about Michael’s vitals and blood tests, he trusted the work to Kyle, Max, and Isobel, and worked on finding any more locations where Mr. Jones could’ve been hiding. They stop the bastard and maybe, just maybe, this nightmare with Michael could finally come to an end.

Too often, the thought of having _that_ conversation, of telling Michael the truth, of seeing the emotions play out on his face, visited Alex. Would he be relieved? Happy to know that he’d chosen Maria? That he’d gotten to have her?

_And maybe . . ._ Alex thought. Maybe he didn’t want to tell the truth because he didn’t want to watch Michael choose someone else _again_.

He shook the thought from his head, and continued to shove it away whenever it came, glaring at the several monitors he had up, focusing on the heat signatures that appeared, no matter how dim or for however short a time. Mr. Jones had to be hiding _somewhere_.

It was only when he got home that night and found Michael’s truck already in his driveway did he remember his stupid promise. He had told Michael he would see him tonight.

Alex swallowed nervously, wondering if he would go in to find Michael naked on his couch or bed, legs open wide and inviting.

Alex pressed the bottom of his palm into his eye and tried not to panic. It was okay. He would just . . . tell Michael he was tired. That should work fine, shouldn’t it?

Alex put his hand on the knob, hesitated, and moved away again, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. The lights were on. He could almost swear he heard music. Was Michael going to try to seduce him?

Alex bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He thought of Michael’s warm, naked body. His chest hair, the trail that led down, down, _down_. Alex almost moaned at the mental image. Michael’s hands on his body, taking his shirt off, his pants, his underwear. The two pressed together on the sheets, damp and panting and desperate to touch.

Alex hadn’t gotten to have Michael like that in so long, he wanted it more than anything now. He thought of being able to lie with his head on Michael’s chest, inhale his scent of rain more deeply, bury himself in it.

He could humor Michael on this, couldn’t he? It wasn’t like he didn’t know that Michael wanted him, and it wasn’t like either of them would be forced to do it. There was nothing keeping Alex from letting go to Michael completely.

_Just this once_ , he thought eagerly, his hand back on the knob, his knuckles white. He wanted Michael back just this once, just tonight, and then he would give up to reality tomorrow. A few hours was all he wanted.

He opened the door, expecting to see Michael’s clothes abandoned on the floor. Instead, he smelled pasta. He blinked, his brows furrowed.

“G-Guerin?”

“In here!” Michael called from the kitchen, and before Alex took more than a few steps inside, he ran out, his smile wide. “Hey.” He was wearing one of Alex’s deep-blue Air Force sweaters, his curls ruffled like he just took a shower. He took Alex’s cold face in his warm hands and kissed his lips. He lingered, whispered, “I missed you, baby,” with a smile, and kissed him one more time before letting him go.

Alex stared as Michael walked back into the kitchen as if it was just something he always did, and Alex always let him.

“I made your favorite!” he said. “You must be starving. I couldn’t find the glasses though, did you move them?”

Alex slowly walked into the kitchen, stopping at the open doorway. He slumped against it. There were two pots on the stove, two plates on the counter with a bottle of wine. Alex hugged himself slowly.

“I figured I owed you,” Michael was still saying with a shy, loving smile, “after making you worry so much. I know, I know, I never listen, but you should’ve known what you were getting yourself into, so really, that’s kind of on – _Alex_!”

He ran to Alex’s side as the airman had all but fallen to the ground against the doorframe, still hugging himself, his eyes filling with tears faster than he knew how to stop them. He couldn’t cry out, he didn’t think he had the strength for it. But he could feel Michael’s hands on his shoulders, his arms. He could feel Michael mere _inches_ away from him, and he hated it. He hated wanting him so close and unable to have him. He hated . . . he hated not having him.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, the tears falling so silently that they may not have been falling at all. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Hey,” Michael smiled nervously. “ _Hey_ , I’m not going anywhere.”

_But you are_ , Alex almost said. _You already have._

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, pulling him in against him so tightly that he was sure he was hurting the cowboy. But he couldn’t release him. Not yet. Not ever.

He wept soundlessly into Michael’s chest while Michael hugged him back just as tightly, his touch warm, his scent like a soothing storm. He didn’t want to think of anyone else, of who Michael would’ve rather been with. He didn’t want Michael to go.

That night, Alex couldn’t sleep. He traced his fingers down Michael’s cheek, the stubble scratching his skin, and Alex found himself smiling to himself at the feel of it.

He brushed Michael’s bottom lip with his thumb. Alex hesitated only a second before he leaned in slowly and pressed his forehead to Michael’s.

A tear fell down the bridge of his nose as Michael slept on. As if he’d sensed Alex was crying, Michael’s arm wrapped around the airman’s waist in his sleep, and pulled him in tighter against his chest.

Alex nuzzled his collarbone and inhaled his scent. Just this moment. Wouldn’t he be allowed just this moment to hold onto Michael? To feel his touch? It would all be gone soon anyway. The thoughts would come again, and the doubt, and Alex wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye for another second.

He was already thinking about it. About _her_ hands running down Michael’s chest, about her pulling him in, kissing him hungrily. He shut his eyes tight against the thought.

_It’s not fair_ , he thought. He knew it was childish, selfish, unreasonable, but Michael was _his_. He’d always been _his_. Couldn’t she have picked _anyone_ else? She could’ve had anyone else.

“Stop,” he breathed through grit teeth, the intrusive anger forcing itself on him. He didn’t really feel that way, he didn’t _want_ to feel that way. Besides, who could’ve blamed Michael for picking someone else? Alex was always such a mess anyway.

“Stop it,” Michael suddenly murmured, and Alex looked up, his eyes wide.

“W-What?”

“Thinking,” he mumbled against Alex’s forehead. “I can hear your mind running. Stop thinking and kiss me.”

Alex shoved the thoughts back down where they belonged, and leaned up. But it was too late.

Reality had forced its way back in, and Alex was left with the memories of being abandoned, dismissed, ignored. All by the people who’d meant the most to him. The moment was over.

Still, he pressed his lips to Michael’s in a closed-mouth kiss.

“I’m sorry for ruining dinner,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Michael said. “I like the alternative.”

“What, losing my mind?”

“No,” he laughed sleepily into Alex’s hair, his grip on Alex tightening. “I like _this_. Lying with you like this. I feel like we haven’t gotten to do it in . . . I don’t even remember how long.”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Alex said. “We’re here now.”

“Yeah, we are,” he murmured. “And I’m never letting you go again, Private.”

_We’ll see_ , Alex thought. _We’ll see._

Over the next few days, nothing changed much in Alex and Michael’s relationship. Michael kept coming over, kept following Alex wherever he went, kept kissing him at random times in random places. And Alex kept letting him, torn at both wanting Michael’s touch and wanting to flinch away from it.

“Kiss me,” Michael would say, and Alex would comply . . . when he couldn’t come up with an excuse. Not that Michael cared. It seemed like, whatever Alex was doing, Michael wanted to kiss him.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I don’t care.”

“I think I might be catching something.”

“I don’t care.”

“I just ate a whole garlic raw, for no reason at all.”

“I don’t care.”

Nothing worked. Michael kept asking for more than kisses, too, his hands always sneaking under Alex’s shirt or down his pants. Every time, Alex managed to come up with a reason to say no. Michael knew he was lying, he _definitely_ knew it, and the frustration at not knowing was starting to show.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No!”

“Do you not find me attractive anymore?”

“No!”

“D-Did I hurt you the last time?”

“NO!”

Alex’s patience was waning. He was losing his mind, waiting for Max and Kyle to confirm that Michael’s head wasn’t actually going to blow up if they gave him back the missing memories. Alex kept wondering if he even _wanted_ Michael to know the truth anymore. Michael knowing meant no more kisses, no more soft fingers along his spine, no more carefree smiles.

But of course, _those_ thoughts always led to even _more_ thoughts and then Alex would be clutching his head for an hour, trying to keep his brain from oozing out his ears.

_Tomorrow_ , Alex thought. Tomorrow, the week would be up, and even Max and Isobel agreed it was time to tell him.

Michael suddenly plopped down in the chair next to him on the porch, slinging an arm around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. Alex’s eye twitched. Tonight would be the last night he’d have to get used to that. The last night he’d have to come up with excuses as to why he couldn’t sleep with Michael, no matter how badly a part of him wanted to. The last night to play pretend.

“I think we should go to the Pony tonight,” he said.

“I – I don’t think so.”

Alex’s regular answer whenever Michael brought that place up. Alex didn’t really like going in there without Michael. _With_ Michael was out of the question. He and Max had barely managed to keep Michael out of the Pony this past week, for fear that he would start talking about his boyfriend in front of Maria and discover the fact that he was talking to his ex. The two of them going in together now would raise too many questions.

“Come on,” he said and kissed Alex’s ear. Alex thought he’d done a good job learning not to turn away from ear kisses in the past week. “You, me, some drinks – it’ll be fun.”

“Not fun for me,” Alex said with a shrug of his shoulder. “That place really isn’t my scene.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you and DeLuca best friends?”

Alex clenched his jaw. “Mhm.”

“ _So_? You don’t want to see her?”

“Do you?” he asked with an edge in his voice despite himself. “You really like the Pony, huh?”

Michael frowned. “Am I not allowed to?”

_But why?_ Alex wanted to ask as he searched Michael’s face. _Why do you like it so much? Why have you been looking to go all week?_

Had his desire to be close to Maria always been so apparent and Alex had just missed it? If he searched his eyes long enough, could he find those thoughts and feelings that longed for someone else?

“You’re allowed to like whatever you want, Guerin,” he said. “You want to go to the Pony, be my guest.”

“But . . . I don’t want to go if you don’t –”

“Why?” he snapped. “When have I been so valuable to you? Since when couldn’t you live without me for ten seconds? I’ve seen you do it, and you looked happy enough to me. You want to go so badly, just _go_ , I don’t care.”

Alex faced ahead, hugging his arms to ward off the cold, his nails digging into his skin. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, and he waited for Michael to find him too difficult, just like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and every time previous, and give up on him. He waited to be abandoned again.

He suddenly felt Michael’s hand cup his jaw and turn his face towards him. Before he knew it, Michael’s lips were parting his own, his tongue sliding against Alex’s, and Alex felt the anger leave his body at once. As Michael kissed him again, and again, and _again_ , Alex felt only drained, his lips working on autopilot as he began to kiss Michael back, as if being with the cowboy was a basic instinct for him.

Michael pulled back, his thumb gently tracing Alex’s cheek, and he smirked. “There’s my Private.”

“W-What’re you –”

“If I ever looked happy to be apart from you,” Michael said, “I was _lying_.” He said it so fiercely, his smirk falling away to reveal something so loving, so furious, that Alex wondered if there was some small part of Michael, the part that had always belonged to Alex, that still loved him and wanted to show itself.

“I want to go to the Pony because you’ve been upset lately,” Michael said softly. “You think I can’t tell when something’s off with you? I thought if anyone could make you feel better, it’d be your friends.” Then he laughed, as if he couldn’t believe how adorable Alex had been for having a temper. “But if you really don’t like that place, we can go someplace else, _anywhere_ you want. Hell, I’ll even put up with Valenti for a night. Just for you. Because that’s how much I love you.”

He’d meant it to be a joke, Alex knew he did, but those last three words embedded themselves in his heart, like a crack in glass, and refused to heal again.

“The last night,” Alex muttered to himself with a sigh. Tomorrow, the truth would come out, and all of this would end. Alex would never be anything special to Michael again.

“What?” Michael tilted his head, pushing Alex’s bangs back from his eyes. “What’d you say, baby?”

Maria would find out tomorrow, too. This wasn’t something they would ever be able to keep from her, even if they wanted to. And there was every chance that Michael would want confirmation on it; that, yes, Maria DeLuca _had_ been his girlfriend. That she’d been the most important person in the world to him. That she’d gotten the firsts of so many, firsts that Alex had hoped were his.

Alex was always a rational person. He thought rationally now. Their time was up.

“Nothing,” he said simply, and – for the sake of the last time – mustered a smile. He leaned in, kissed Michael’s lips once more, and stood. “Come on. Let’s go to the Pony.”

Walking into the Wild Pony was almost nostalgic. Alex remembered a time, two years ago, when he’d come in hoping to see his friend and spotted the love of his life at the far end of the room. How could he have known everything that would follow? He’d thought their problems would be normal ones, he’d thought he knew everything there was to know about the handsome cowboy. How could he have known how wrong he really was?

Michael didn’t look to the bar as if searching for anyone, he didn’t glance at every curly-haired woman as if she might be someone else, he didn’t even notice when attractive women tried to catch his eye. He inhaled deeply as his arm came around Alex’s waist.

“Beer and sweat,” Michael grinned. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Alex couldn’t help it. He smiled. Albeit, it was small and half-hearted, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

“No half-decent doctor would order this place,” he said.

Michael seemed very pleased with himself for getting a grin out of Alex. He kissed his cheek. “Sorry, did I say doctor? I meant sexy cowboy.”

Alex laughed and Michael, doubly proud of his accomplishment, planted a chaste kiss on Alex’s lips this time.

“You want to get us some drinks?” he offered. “I’ll find us a table.”

Alex’s smile dimmed. He knew Michael was trying to give him space to talk to his friend, but he had no idea the kind of conversation that awaited Alex, the one he’d been dreading since Michael had first woken up and hugged him.

Then again, there was no easy way to do this. He nodded. Michael turned to find them a table, but Alex caught his hand at the last second.

“Guerin, wait.”

“Yeah?”

The words lodged in Alex’s throat. He swallowed the lump and forced them out. “I – I love you. I just . . . I don’t think I told you – uh – recently. But I do. I love you.”

Michael grinned, taking Alex’s face in his hands. He kissed him again. “I love you more,” he said against his lips. He straightened Alex’s jacket. “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m a ghost. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Alex kissed Michael’s palm, letting his eyes flutter shut a moment before he forced himself to let him go. “Right,” he said, barely over a whisper.

Without another word or glance at Michael, Alex turned towards the bar and walked away. His heart felt like it was being pulled in the opposite direction, begging him to turn around, to go back to Michael, to hide the truth forever, to stay at his side however long was possible.

But too much had happened. Too many decisions had been made. And Alex knew that he couldn’t keep going like this, living a lie in which he was the one that had been chosen. He hadn’t been.

When he got to the bar, Maria was seemingly very busy cleaning a glass that was already sparkling. She didn’t look up when Alex neared.

“Hi,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Hm? Oh, hey!” she smiled. “Didn’t – uh – didn’t even see you there!”

“Yeah?” Alex tilted his head. “Is that why you’re still cleaning a clean cup?”

Maria looked down, seemed to realize that she was still roughly scrubbing, and immediately stopped.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I just –” she shook her head, chuckled uncertainly, and went on, “I thought I saw you and – and Michael . . . never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Stupid?” Alex said quietly. “Liking me is stupid?”

Maria’s eyes widened. “I – _no_! No, that’s not what I meant!”

“That’s okay,” he shrugged. “You’re right.”

“Alex, that’s not what I meant.” Her voice was soft, and Alex hated it. He hated that this was how they spoke to each other now. That he was constantly angry at what he couldn’t control and that she was so mindful of his feelings when it stopped mattering. Was this what he was now? An inconvenience? His love for Michael had just been in the way for what his love and his friend had wanted? And now everything was broken.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. When she began to nod, he added, “But not here. Somewhere private, maybe?”

Maria glanced at Michael who was looking over the jukebox, who had yet to glance at her direction once, and said, “Sure. Follow me.”

So Alex did, joining Maria in a backroom that was big enough for maybe ten people. Her arms were crossed nervously, a look Alex never really associated with her. It was odd now. To finally come to the conversation he’d been so terrified of, and feel almost nothing as he said it. Telling Maria everything had been slightly painful, subdued only by the numbness that overtook Alex as he relayed the events.

She’d looked confused at first, then shocked, then angry, then confused again. By the time Alex had finished, Maria was pacing the length of the room.

“H-Hold on,” she covered her face with her hands. “Hold on, so. . . . _So_. So . . . what’s the last thing he remembers?”

“Apparently, the night of Noah’s attack,” Alex said with a shrug. He wondered if it was too late in the night to visit Gregory. He could do without Roswell after this. “He thinks he came back the next day and that we talked.” He scoffed. “Didn’t even know what I was wearing. Couldn’t remember.”

“But that’s,” Maria shook her head, “that’s not what happened.”

“No, you know what _did_ happen?” Alex said. His voice was calm, but it echoed in the small room regardless, and Maria fell silent. “Guerin left me waiting for _hours_ in the cold. I kept expecting to see his truck and it never came. Because he was here. With you.”

“I,” Maria started. “I – but – yeah, but I told you about that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Alex huffed a miserable chuckle. “You did, Maria, you told me weeks after I’d already heard it from him.” His smile faded as quickly as it had come. “He wouldn’t even . . . he wouldn’t even let me help him with his mom . . . because he liked you. He didn’t want anything to do with me.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, discreetly wiping away the tears that were forming. “And _now_ , he’s touching me like we’ve always been together, like I don’t already _know_ what he really thinks of me. Do you have _any_ idea how hard this past week has been?”

Maria looked up and her eyes widened slightly at something over Alex’s shoulder. Alex followed her gaze and found Michael standing at the doorway, his eyes wide and on Alex.

“My memories _were_ stolen?” Michael said. “A – A whole _year_? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Alex wished he could muster anymore emotion, but try as he might, he only felt nothing.

“We couldn’t be sure telling you the truth would be safe.”

Michael frowned as he stepped towards Alex. “I dated _DeLuca_? Me and – and –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex said. “Congrats, Guerin.” And he walked out, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed Max’s number as he heard two pairs of footprints follow him into the cold night.

“Max?” he answered. “Yeah, he knows. . . . I said he knows. . . . Yeah. . . . Sure, he’s fine. . . . At the Pony. Okay. . . . See you in ten.” He turned to Michael. “Max is coming to pick you up. He’ll explain everything else. I’m going home.”

“What – _Alex_!” he grabbed his arm. “Hang on a second, just – just wait! You’re not – you’re not really going to leave me, are you?”

Alex’s resolve softened a little. “The night of Noah’s attack, you told me to come back to the junkyard.”

“Yeah, I know!” Michael said at once. “I know, and the next day –

“And the next day,” Alex cut him off, “you went to make out with Maria while I waited for you outside the trailer. A few weeks later, you told me we shouldn’t be working together. You moved the trailer onto the Pony’s _parking lot_ , Guerin.”

He took a deep, trembling breath. “And you made breakfast for her, and you slept with her, and you worried about her, and when she tried to break up with you, you told her you loved her, and _begged_ her not to. And then you came running to me; your second choice.”

Alex huffed, having said all of that at once. Michael stared, looking halfway between utterly shocked and unable to believe that he had done any of that.

“That – that was a mistake!” Michael said, and Alex saw Maria flinch, hurt. “It was _obviously_ a mistake, Alex! _Alex_ ,” he grabbed Alex’s arms desperately when the airman turned away again, unable to believe a word that came out of his mouth. “I love _you_. I don’t feel that way about anyone else, I _can’t_ feel that way about anyone else. Come on,” he huffed a nervous chuckle, as if he still couldn’t really believe any of this was happening. “Come on, Alex, you _know_ what you mean to me!”

“You told her you loved her, Guerin,” Alex said, silently cursing his voice for shaking. “You’d never even said that to _me_ before, but you said it to _her_. So she wouldn’t break up with you. But she did. And you _still_ never once so much as asked me to stay.” He covered Michael’s wrists with his hands. “So you want to know what I think I mean to you, Guerin?” He brought Michael’s hands down and stepped back. He whispered, his voice cracking, “ _Nothing_.”

Alex got in his car, closed the door behind him as Michael was left staring at the place where he had been, his eyes glassy. He drove off down the dark road, the night sky full of stars that seemed to be warning him; _cosmic is only meant for galaxies._

Alex stopped at a red light and slumped down in his seat, waiting. The silence pressed in on him here, on this wide stretch of black with endless desert plains on either side, and it felt as if he was the only person left on the planet.

His eyes were dried out. Alex didn’t think he would cry again for a while.


	3. You Asked Me To

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the week,” Gregory said with a low whistle as he handed Alex a cup of steaming tea.

“I know, right?” Alex said, hugging the cup close to his heart. Maybe the warmth would revitalize him. “Sorry for waking you up. I just . . . didn’t want to go home.”

“I was up anyway,” Gregory said, and took a sip of his own mug. “Have you heard from Clay at all?”

Alex shook his head, though no news from their brother was hardly surprising. “Flint?”

Gregory shrugged a shoulder. “Says he’s busy.” He sighed. “I hate this week. Is this just what’s it’s going to be like from now on?”

“We’re adjusting,” Alex tried. “For a while, it felt like he would always be around. Now he’s not. Takes a minute to get used to.”

Gregory shook his head. “You think that’s all it is?”

_No_ , Alex wanted to say at once. _No, I don’t._ In truth, Alex didn’t know _what_ it would be like, if things would ever get better. Right now, he felt as lost as he was sure his brothers felt, pulled in so many different directions and not knowing which way to turn.

But Gregory was stronger than he was. Gregory had made it out of the military, had found a life for himself here on the reservation, a life he enjoyed. Alex was tempted to ask him how he did it.

_By not falling in love with an alien_ , he might’ve said.

In the end, Alex merely slumped down in his seat, cradling his mug, and said, “It has to be. We’re Manes Men, remember? We don’t fail.”

“Yeah,” Gregory said quietly. “Not so easy to let that go, is it?”

“You still having nightmares?”

“Don’t we all?” he scoffed.

Alex began to chuckle. “I –” but he never got to finish that thought as he felt a sudden shiver in his spine, cutting his words short. He looked over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Gregory asked at once, following Alex’s gaze out the black window. “Alex, what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing, I . . .” _I know someone was watching me._ But there was no one outside, no one else in the house, _no one_ watching them. “I thought I felt . . . never mind.”

*

“You need a drink?” Maria offered, and Michael looked up and realized she was still there.

He exhaled slowly. “Is – Is that everything?”

“Everything you’ve told me in the past year,” she nodded. “Everything we’ve done.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, tried to collect his thoughts, dig into the deepest trenches of his memory and search for these moments he and Maria had apparently shared, and came up with nothing. Not even the smallest tug at his heartstrings or the feeling that anything was missing at all.

“S-So you and me actually . . .”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t even know you _liked_ me like that.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “Then I did.”

Michael stared. “You didn’t, then you did. Y-You’re lying.”

She frowned. “No, I’m not. I told you, we slept together in –”

“No, I got that part,” he shook his head. “I just can’t – I wouldn’t . . .” _I wouldn’t turn my back on the love of my life for that._ “No wonder he hated me,” he muttered.

“Michael –”

“He really waited for me? And I _knew_? And I came here anyway?” he laughed, the sound hysterical to his own ears. “I – I have to go see him now. I have to go see him.”

“And say what?” she demanded. “Michael, _listen_ to me. Alex was never good at asking for what he wanted. Yes, he waited for you, but he was _too late_. By then, you and me –”

“ _’You and me?’_ There is no you and me, Maria! I don’t – I don’t feel that way about you! I feel that way about _him_! _Only_ him!”

“You need to calm down,” she grit out. “Alex never said he had a problem with us –”

“He shouldn’t have _had_ to!” Michael said. “Are you kidding me? _He shouldn’t have had to_.”

 _“You want to know what I think I mean to you, Guerin?_ Nothing _.”_

“He was too late,” Maria said again, more quietly. So unlike the confident woman Michael always saw strutting around. Even _she_ knew what they’d done was out of line. “And he –“

“Tell me I didn’t leave him for this,” Michael breathed, and Maria fell silent. “Tell me I didn’t turn my back on the best thing that ever happened to me for a fling.”

The bell above the door jingled, and Michael looked up. _Alex?_ he thought hopefully, and was disappointed to see Max instead.

Max didn’t look worried. Michael supposed his brother knew that Alex would never have left him if there was anything to really distress over. Michael imagined his boyfriend – _no_ , a voice reminded him, _not my boyfriend_ – forcing a smile to his lips at every one of Michael’s advancements, to his kisses, to his touches.

He remembered the way Alex had come back one night to find Michael in his kitchen, and collapsed against the doorframe, begging Michael not to leave him. Michael had been terrified out of his mind, but he’d tried to smile for Alex’s sake. He’d wondered why Alex would ever fear being abandoned. Now he knew. It was because Michael had seemed to have no problem leaving him before.

_“I don’t want you to leave.”_

Max approached them and, with a sigh, put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t ask him if he was okay, which Michael was grateful for.

Maria, avoiding his eyes, said, “You guys want that drink now?”

But Michael shook his head, his eyes burning. “I want Alex,” he said miserably, tears falling before he could help them. A sob escaped his lips. “I want to see Alex.”

“Alex isn’t home tonight,” was all Max said, tugging on his brother’s arm. “Come on. You’re staying with me. Come on, brother.”

Michael woke up expecting to feel a warm body next to his own. When he sleepily reached out and felt cold sheets, last night’s memories returned to him, and his body went slack.

He had dated Maria. He had left Alex for her. He had repeatedly turned the airman down when he was finally forcing himself to move forward with Michael. The moment Michael had been waiting for since the day he’d first laid eyes on Alex, and he’d thrown it away. To be with Alex’s best friend. To be in a relationship he’d never really wanted.

 _“You want to know what I think I mean to you, Guerin?_ Nothing _.”_

Michael sat up, startled. This was what Mr. Jones had wanted. He had wanted Michael to weaken, to be disheartened and lose the will to fight after failing in one of the worst ways. Michael’s fingers curled to fists in the sheets where he knew Alex ought to be.

It wasn’t just _him_ Mr. Jones was trying to destroy. It never had been.

Michael grabbed his keys and all but soared out of his airstream. He jumped in his truck and broke the speed limit on his way to Alex’s house.

When he got there, Alex’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He looked around, the panic that had been simmering in his stomach was boiling now. Had Alex gone to work? No, it was Sunday, he didn’t have work today. Or was Michael knowing Alex’s schedule by heart nothing more than another one of Mr. Jones’s mind games?

Just as Michael was pulling out his phone, resolved to call Alex until he picked up instead, a familiar car pulled into the driveway, and Michael’s shoulders sagged with relief. Alex stepped out in one piece, looking about as well-rested as Michael felt, his brows knit together at the sight of the cowboy.

Michael came up to him, wanting so badly to touch him, to hold him, to make absolutely sure that there wasn’t a scratch on him, but instead of meeting Michael halfway as he always knew him to do, Alex completely walked past him to his front door.

“What – _hey_ ,” he grabbed Alex’s elbow and pulled him to a stop.

Alex rolled his eyes, resigned, as he turned to face him. “What is it, Guerin?”

Michael opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. He wasn’t used to this; Alex’s cold expression, the distance between them, the weariness and misery on Alex’s face and knowing that _he_ had put it there. This couldn’t be Michael’s normal. He didn’t know how he had managed to live if this was his normal.

“I – I missed you,” he said. Alex’s eyes softened for half a second before he seemed to remember who he was talking to, and he pulled his arm out of Michael’s grasp.

“Anything else?” he said with a sigh.

Michael flinched. “D-Do you . . . really hate me that much?”

“I don’t _hate_ you, Guerin,” he said wearily. “Of course I could never hate you. It just hurts seeing you.”

“But I’m not that same guy who made all those bad choices,” Michael tried.

“Yes, you are, Guerin,” Alex said. “Look, we’re searching the whole country for Mr. Jones. We’ll find him and get your memories back,” he took a deep breath as if bracing himself for the worst of it, “and all of this –” he gestured between them “—will just be a bad dream. Okay? Go home. Please.”

Michael shook his head. “I – I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” Michael looked around, feeling more lost now than ever. “ _You’re_ my home.”

Alex stared, his jaw clenched. He looked away, but his eyes didn’t glisten, he didn’t look like he would cry again.

“Leave,” was all he said, his voice hoarse, and he turned back to his house, his hands in his pockets.

“Alex, _stop_ ,” he tried again. “Listen to me!”

“Why should I?” Alex snapped.

“Because Mr. Jones wants to hurt you!” he said, and Alex fell silent, startled. “And he’s breaking us to do it.”

Alex said nothing, and Michael took it as a good sign to step forward. “You’re a threat,” he said. “You’re too clever, and too brave . . .” his throat constricted “and too good, and he’s terrified. Before he took my memories, he said, ‘When it comes back, it’ll hurt like hell . . . and I’ll have fun watching you two burn.’ _You two_ , Alex. You’ve always been in the line of fire.” He added more quietly, “Loving each other means you’re always in danger.”

Alex looked up, that defiance that Michael loved so much twinkling in his eye, like a candle that couldn’t be put out no matter how strong and threatening the storm. For a minute, Michael thought Alex would snap at him to get off his property already, or that he wasn’t scared of Mr. Jones or anyone else that wanted to take a throw at him, or – the most mind-numbing thought of all – that Alex _didn’t_ love him, not anymore.

But Alex only deflated and muttered, “Yeah, what else is new?” and he turned into his house, leaving the door open behind him. Michael followed him inside.

Alex sat on a stool at his kitchen counter. “You don’t think I considered that? But there’s nothing either of us can do about it. Pretending to be happy and together won’t change what’s happened.”

“But you’re not sleeping,” Michael said. He almost took the stool right next to Alex, but his body language told Michael the act would not be welcomed. He took the one opposite him instead. Already, Alex was too far away.

“I never sleep,” Alex said. “Honestly, I don’t feel that much different.”

“You were limping, Alex.”

“I don’t have a leg, Guerin,” he said. “Of course I was limping.”

“ _Private_ , you want to try these ‘I’m-fine’ lines on someone that’ll actually buy ‘em?” he said edgily.

Alex said nothing, looking down at his interlocked fingers. Michael reached out, covering Alex’s hands with his own. He’d gotten barely a second of that comforting warmth before it was snatched away.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his chest aching so badly he wanted to curl into Alex’s side and cry and never move again. “But I – I can’t live like this, Alex. I don’t like not being with you, I don’t like not waking up to you next to me, I can’t _stand_ any of it.”

“Guerin –”

“Alex, _look_ at me,” he said with no small amount of plea in his voice. “I can’t sleep either, I can’t eat, I can’t think of anything but you and what I did wrong.”

“What’re you asking for here?” Alex demanded. “That I just let it all go and welcome you back with open arms? I _have_ let it go, Guerin, but I can’t help how I feel. Every time I look at you, I see her. You chose _her_.”

“It was a stupid, _stupid_ mistake,” Michael pleaded. “Maria told me everything, and – _Alex_ —” he smiled half-hysterically “— I’m a coward. Okay? I – I went to her because I finally had you, and I was terrified I’d do something stupid and send you away for good.” He huffed. “So I did something stupid first, and I got to keep you.”

Alex shook his head. He whispered, “Do you have any idea how miserable I’ve been? Being your second choice? Being at the bottom of everyone’s list, but it was okay, because I was special to the one person that mattered. Until I wasn’t.”

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael surged forward, disregarding how he may or may not be taken, and held Alex’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks. He wanted to kiss Alex’s lips, but the airman looked remarkably numb, and Michael was afraid his love would snap. He pressed their foreheads roughly together.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, I love you, _I love you_. Give me another chance. Let me fix things.”

Alex tugged half-heartedly at Michael’s wrist. He seemed to be too tired for much of anything. Michael _did_ that to him. “Let me go, Guerin.”

“I know you don’t want me to leave,” Michael said, holding on despite Alex trying to squirm away from him. “I _know_ you love me just as much as I love you. I know you want to be with me just as badly. Let me fix things, Private.”

Alex stopped squirming, looking conflicted. Michael kissed his forehead again, unable to be apart from him. “I’ve never asked you for a chance, right? I’m asking you for one now. Just one chance, Alex. Please. For me.”

Alex’s shoulders fell. _That’s what did it_ , Michael thought. As angry as Alex was with him, as disappointed, as brokenhearted, he never could refuse him anything, not when he asked. Michael knew that, and he would hate himself for taking advantage of it tomorrow. Today, he just wanted Alex.

“Say yes, baby,” he pleaded, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and holding onto him. “Please, for me, say yes.”

Alex looked pained, as if every fiber in his body wanted to turn Michael away, but his heart wouldn’t let him. Finally he put his hands on Michael’s arms, his nails digging into his skin, and Michael reveled at the sting.

His mouth hung open, hovering over Alex’s. He could feel Alex’s warm breath fan his lips, and he found himself leaning in without the ability to stop himself. Another inch, half an inch, he could feel Alex’s lips brush his own now –

“Stop,” Alex breathed. “S-Stop.”

Michael’s eyes opened. He woke up. He and Alex were panting against one another’s mouths, and Alex put a hand between them, keeping Michael back. Michael moved far enough that they weren’t breathing the same air, but kept an arm around Alex’s waist, unwilling and unable to stop touching him.

“Not like this,” he said weakly, his forehead falling onto Michael’s shoulder as if just the proximity between them had been enough to knock the air out of him. “Not like this. I can’t . . . just . . . fall into bed with you again. Not while I . . . still see you two together.”

Michael dug his fingers into Alex’s waist. “Alex –”

“Don’t,” he shook his head against Michael’s shoulder, his fingers pulling on his jacket, as if desperate to keep him close and being too afraid that he’s not allowed.

Michael swallowed and dared step closer, putting his other hand in Alex’s hair, biting his lower lip at the soft locks between his fingers. And he waited, his heart hammering in his chest.

Slowly, after what felt like an hour, Alex slowly wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, pulling him in against him.

Michael held his breath, his eyes burning as Alex held onto him, his own arms tight around Alex. He tried not to speak, not to _breathe_.

He was only beginning to wonder how much longer he would be allowed to touch him like this when Alex suddenly said against his chest, “Sleep.”

“What?”

Alex released him, but kept his forehead on Michael’s heart. “I’m so tired, but I can’t . . . I can’t sleep unless you’re there.”

Michael swallowed. He didn’t dare hope. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. Let’s go sleep.”

Alex rubbed his face wearily as he pulled away. Michael expected to see his eyes red and puffy, but they were dry. Whatever numbness had taken hold of Alex didn’t seem willing to let go.

Alex stared at Michael’s bare left hand a long while before he looked up at the cowboy’s face. “It’s not a chance,” he said. “It’s a night. One night, Guerin. That’s it.”

Michael felt a lump in his throat, but he managed to nod. “Come on,” he urged quietly. “I’ll stay with you while you sleep.”

Alex still looked hesitant, but he nodded, never letting go of Michael’s jacket.

Michael woke as he’d been accustomed to waking; with Alex in his arms.

Even in sleep, Michael hadn’t loosened his hold once on Alex, the airman curled into him, his fist on his chest, still holding onto his shirt. Michael bit his lower lip and moved in closer. Alex murmured in his sleep, and Michael froze, but then Alex nuzzled Michael’s chest, and Michael thought he might die.

He pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead and muttered, “I love you so much,” against his skin. He kissed his cheek, the top of his head. And then he leaned down to kiss his lips. He came close, _so_ close –

“Guerin?” Alex croaked groggily, and Michael looked down to find his airman staring at his own hand on Michael with furrowed brows. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Michael said. “Just . . . keeping you warm.”

Alex seemed to realize that he was still holding onto Michael’s shirt. He looked up and his lips were only an inch away from Michael’s. They stared at each other a long time before Alex looked away, letting his head fall back down onto Michael’s arm with a sigh.

“What time is it?”

Michael leaned in, subtly tightening his arms around Alex. “Seven in the morning.”

Alex’s brows furrowed and he sat up. “I – I slept all day?”

“We both did,” Michael said. “Hey,” he brushed back Alex’s bangs from his eyes. “This is a good thing.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, rubbing his face. “I know. I’ve just never slept so long before. I’ve . . . never slept so long, _period_.”

Michael smiled, nuzzling Alex’s ear and inhaling his scent. “Guess I helped.”

Alex’s breath caught in his throat, his hand instinctively tightening on Michael’s shirt. Michael’s heart soared. “Um . . . maybe . . . we should –”

“Go back to sleep?” Michael finished, pulling Alex in against him again, his lips brushing Alex’s jaw. He missed the scratch of Alex’s stubble, the touch of his soft hair. He missed it all so badly it might’ve killed him.

“I – no – wait, Guerin,” Alex said, releasing Michael’s shirt.

“Damn, you smell so good.”

“Guerin, hang on,” Alex said. “I – I have work. I have to get up.”

“So get up,” Michael murmured, placing soft kisses along Alex’s neck, pulling him in closer and closer until Michael was halfway on top of him.

He thought he heard Alex moan and almost cried. Then Alex’s hands were on his arms.

“ _Baby_ ,” he breathed, kissing Alex’s neck more fiercely now, moving down to his collarbone. Then he realized that Alex wasn’t pulling him closer, but trying to push him away.

“Stop,” he breathed. “Stop it, Guerin. Stop.”

Michael pulled back. “W-Why?”

“Just stop,” Alex said, sitting up and pulling Michael with him. “I need to change for work. I can’t do this right now, I – I need to – I . . .”

“Okay,” Michael said quietly, cupping Alex’s cheek. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Alex, I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll leave you to change. I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay?”

Without looking at him, Alex nodded, and Michael hesitated before kissing his temple once more. Then, with a heavy heart, he pushed himself off the bed and left the room.

As soon as the door closed behind Michael, he made a beeline for the kitchen. He filled a cup with ice and cold water and gulped it down, then filled another.

He’d gotten carried away. He imagined still being in bed now, stripping Alex of the shirt and jeans he’d fallen asleep in, touching his chest, his strong arms, his stomach, his waist, his hips, pulling him in by his ass –

Michael opted for just ice cubes this time, erasing the picture from his mind. He couldn’t help it. He and Alex hadn’t touched each other in over a week, and they’d never gone that long before without sex, not since Alex had been back in town.

_Except, of course, that’s not true_ , a voice in his head warned. _You’ve been away from each other for over a_ year _._

But even as that reality settled in, Michael still couldn’t believe it. It was Alex, _his_ Alex, and there was no way Michael could’ve been with anybody else. The real problem was that he just _didn’t have that memory_. He could only imagine himself with Alex, or touching himself to Alex. No one else had ever come close. _No one._

Had he been envisioning Alex in bed even as he’d been with Maria? He shook his head. He _hadn’t_ been with Maria, not any real part of him anyway. Maria didn’t know any of his weaknesses, didn’t know his greatest secrets, the things that not even Max and Isobel knew. But Alex did. Michael had never wanted to share every single part of himself with anybody _but_ Alex.

Especially in bed. With Alex’s hairy chest and his . . . his strong thighs around Michael’s hips and . . . his breathy moans in Michael’s ear, urging him to go faster, harder, pleading his name –

He had another cup of ice water.

He opened the fridge (maybe he could make Alex a quick breakfast before work?) and found it almost devoid of food. He frowned. He checked the pantry, and there were cans in plastic bags, as if Alex was in the process of packing them.

“What the . . .?”

Out of curiosity, Michael checked the other cupboards and drawers, and almost everything was packed in boxes. Pots and pans, utensils, even brooms and mops. Most things were marked, _For Storage_ , while others were labeled, _Essentials_.

What was happening? Why did it look like Alex was in the middle of moving? That’s when a vague memory hit, something familiar that he ought to have remembered. Something near the time of Mr. Jones’s attack . . . something about Alex and a talk he’d had with one of his brothers . . .

“You shouldn’t drink that,” Alex said. He stood at the door in full uniform, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. At Michael’s knit brows, Alex gestured at the cold cup in his hands, the mist forming around Michael’s fingers. “In this weather, it’ll make you sick.”

Michael shook his head. “I . . . hey, Alex, why, uh . . .”

But Alex clearly wasn’t listening to him. Instead, he was looking back into the hallway as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder, as if he expected someone to follow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. “What were you saying?”

“Uh – doesn’t matter.”

Alex didn’t look like he believed him, but he nodded, picked up an apple out of the basket on the counter, and turned to leave. Michael followed.

“You’re going _now_?”

“I have to, if I don’t want to be late. And I’m _never_ late.”

“Hey,” he reached as Alex unlocked his car. “I can drive you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Come on,” he said, stopping Alex again by his arm. “Let me do this.”

Alex looked like he was debating the pros and cons in his head, a habit Michael had discovered and fallen in love with years ago. Michael raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, and Alex sighed. “Fine. I finish at –”

“Nine,” he shrugged. “Yeah, I know.”

Alex looked startled, but before Michael could ask what was wrong, he turned, tossing his duffel bag into the backseat before sitting up front. Michael smiled to himself before he got in.

It was seven in the evening when he got the text; _My friend’s driving me home. I’ll see you tomorrow._

Michael stared at the message for several long minutes before he slowly returned the phone to his pocket and started beating the crap out of Mr. Masterson’s engine.

He’d wanted to see Alex so badly, to ask him what those boxes in his closet were supposed to be. But the finality in Alex’s text was evident; _I’ll see you tomorrow._ He would not be welcomed for a late-night visit. And since when did Alex like accepting offers of help from his friends anyway? He was the most stubborn bastard to ever live, and Michael loved him for it. But he was clearly avoiding Michael now. _No,_ he told himself. _He just needs time. He needs a breather._

But that thought, to Michael, was just as bad. Alex had never needed space _away_ from him. He’d been afraid, definitely, and he’d needed to run away in the past, but he’d long since beaten down that fear, and Michael only knew him now as the man that held on even tighter when he was afraid, as he’d done yesterday.

Alex pushed away everyone else, needed space from _everyone_ else, but _never_ Michael.

_Yeah, well, the Alex you know isn’t real, is he?_ a voice in his head taunted. _You’re just someone else who thought he wasn’t worth the fight._

Michael screamed, and the truck he’d been working on lifted a good couple of inches off the ground and slammed back down.

“Whoa, easy there!” Sanders called from across the lot. “I’m paying to you to _fix_ cars, not juggle ‘em!”

Michael breathed heavily, waving his wrench in dull acknowledgment. He pulled out his phone and swiped through his pictures. He’d taken so many of Alex when he wasn’t looking since they’d been dating, and knew they would bring him comfort now.

But as he looked through the photos, he couldn’t find them. He frowned, panic growing and growing in his chest as he looked for the shots of Alex laughing, Alex blushing, Alex smiling, Alex curled up asleep on his bed or the couch, naked or in too many layers to be able to breathe properly. All Michael saw were goofy selfies Isobel had taken herself, or shots of him and Maria that she had clearly taken given the angle of the photo. He was kissing Maria’s cheek or having a drink with his arm around her shoulders, or she was ruffling his hair and licking the side of his face.

 _But Alex._ The dirtier pictures were gone, too, as were the ones of Alex eating or singing or playing the piano. Not a single one was left.

Michael stumbled back until he hit the trailer, the wrench falling from his hand. If he’d had any doubt that the others were the ones that had been mistaken about the past year, or that they’d been playing some cruel joke on him, it was gone now. Michael numbly scrolled through the rest of the photos, ones Maria had taken but that he’d let happen.

Had _Alex_ seen these? Michael imagined his reaction, just staring with dead, cold eyes at yet another reminder that he’d been abandoned, that Michael had wanted to be with someone else more, that he was so unimportant.

Michael’s hands trembled at the thought, at remembering Alex’s disbelief every time Michael told him how much he loved him. He deleted all of the pictures, every single one that ever proved the past year had existed, every single one with _her_.

If Alex had ever seen these . . . if Alex had _ever_ seen these . . .

By the time eight rolled around and Sanders told Michael to call it a night, Michael was still sitting against the airstream, his phone in hand. His recordings of Alex’s quick, unfinished songs had been lost, too. There was nothing he had that remained of his love for Alex. Nothing that proved he’d cared enough to keep anything of him. He didn’t even have the spare key he thought he did to Alex’s house, though that memory had been _so vivid_ in his mind.

He remembered walking in on Alex showering one morning after having unlocked the front door with his mind. He remembered the kisses that followed, the steam, the water, the soft, damp skin beneath his fingers. He remembered breathy moans and desperate confessions.

And he remembered lying in bed afterwards, Alex turning away from him to open a drawer in his nightstand. Michael had kissed down his exposed spine, his hip, his ass. Then he remembered Alex presenting him with a small key. At first, Michael had had no idea what it was for, but then realization dawned.

_“No more breaking in,”_ Alex had said. _“When you open the door, I’ll know, so I never have to be surprised again.”_

He’d been shy, nervous, as if afraid Michael would turn him down. And as Michael had taken the key and set it aside, Alex’s face had fallen for a split second, but then Michael had tackled him in bed, planting kisses all over his laughing face, muttering his love for him, thrusting so deeply into him that all Alex could say was his name.

“He’s _mine_ ,” Michael whispered into the careless night. “Mine.”

The hours passed as Michael sat there, repeating those words to himself. Alex was his. Everything between them would be fine. It would be just fine, because Michael would make sure it was fine.

But it was getting later and later at night, and Alex hadn’t texted him yet, and everything didn’t _feel_ fine.

“Come on,” he grit out. “Hold yourself together. Hold yourself together.”

And that talk might’ve worked with someone like Alex, who’d been trained to hold himself together since he was a kid. But Michael fell apart. That was what he _did_. It was _Alex_ who always held him together.

He grabbed his jacket. It would have to be Alex who held him together now.

When he’d gotten to Alex’s front door, Michael reached for the spare key in his pocket. He remembered he didn’t have one, and clenched his jaw.

_“No more breaking in.”_

“Sorry, Alex,” he muttered. “But I need you.”

He unlocked the door and tiptoed in. The rooms were dark, but Alex’s duffel bag was tossed down beside the couch, and Michael imagined him too exhausted to even drag it into the bedroom with him. _His baby._

He knew Alex was here, so he made his way to his bedroom and found the airman’s back to him as he lay curled in bed, fast asleep.

It was a testament to Alex’s pain that he had managed to sleep at all, since he was normally woken with nightmares for half the night.

Michael carefully took off his boots, though he kept his jacket on, and he crawled into bed behind Alex. He lay on top of the covers, and wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist, pressing his nose to the back of Alex’s head, in his soft hair, inhaling his scent.

His eyes burned and he shut them tight. “I missed you,” he whispered. Not wanting to wake Alex, Michael didn’t dare kiss the nape of his neck, no matter how soft the skin looked, how the ends of his hair curled around his ear.

His open mouth hovered above Alex’s neck a long moment, but he refrained. He just wanted to stay here with Alex now, to get some sleep. He wrapped his arm a little tighter around his waist, slung a leg carefully over Alex’s, and snuggled into him.

He must’ve fallen asleep without realizing it, because he woke up just as the sun was rising. He sat up groggily, and realized that Alex was still sleeping. Michael would’ve expected him to be awake long before now. Still, he didn’t question it as he leaned down again, nuzzling the crook of Alex’s neck.

Alex murmured something incoherent under his breath, and Michael froze. He ran a hand gently down Alex’s leg and the airman eased into sleep again. Michael smiled. He was still the only one who could calm Alex’s mind.

He risked a small kiss to Alex’s clothed shoulder and swung his legs off the bed. He stood at the door, staring at his airman for way too long before he forced himself away.

He used his mind to lock the front door behind him, and he’d made it halfway back to the junkyard before he had to pull over to the side and slump in his seat, his eyes on the clouds gathering in the morning sky.

He pulled out his phone, hesitated, and sent Alex a message. The first thing he would see when he woke up.

_Want to get breakfast at the Crashdown before work?_

He put the car back in drive and arrived at the junkyard not long after. The second he’d stepped out, he got a one-word response from Alex.

_Okay._

“Any word on Mr. Jones yet?” Alex asked before he took a sip of his milkshake.

The two sat across from each other in a booth, which again felt too far away for Michael. Nonetheless, he took a bite out of his churro and tried very, _very_ hard not to hug Alex’s legs under the table with his own.

“Max and Isobel haven’t felt anything off since the last time. Neither have I. You picking up anything on your scans?”

“No,” Alex said. “I’ve been thinking we could try the caves again, but . . . there’s no reason he’d be there, not after we found his last hideout.” He sighed. “He’s messing with us.”

“We’ll find him,” Michael assured him.

“I wish we’d find him faster.”

Michael tapped his finger on the table. “Is it that bad to be stuck with me?” At Alex’s exasperated look, Michael held his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, don’t – don’t get upset, I’m sorry.”

Alex stared a moment, then shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is all just . . . really hard.”

Michael tried to smile. “You – You look nice.”

Alex looked down at his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie, and back up at Michael with a raised brow and half a smile.

“I like it,” Michael said defensively. “I liked what you were wearing yesterday, too.”

“You remember that?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said, leaning in, “but I’m kind of always staring at you.”

Alex’s smile dimmed. “That’s weird.”

“What?”

“Having your attention.”

Michael faltered. “I never . . . gave it to you before?”

Alex looked down, seemingly more interested in his drink. “Not the good kind,” he said.

“But you don’t hate it, right?” Michael tried for a light smile, though even he could hear the plea in his voice. _You don’t hate being with me, right? You still love me, don’t you?_

Alex looked down, swirling the contents of his milkshake a bit before he said, “I like it a little too much. That’s the problem.”

Michael searched his face. “You don’t want us to find Mr. Jones,” he noted.

Alex avoided his eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

“Because if we find him, my memories might come back,” he said, grinning. “And then –”

“And then you’ll really leave me,” he finished simply. Michael’s smile dimmed. Alex shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I don’t want to find Mr. Jones. But I have to. Not just for you, but for everybody else, too.”

“Alex, I won’t –”

“You know, you think you know what loneliness is,” Alex said more quietly, his own smile not reaching his eyes. “But you don’t. You’ve always had Max and Isobel. And Liz and Maria . . . well, when it turned out that Maria liked you . . . I guess it was a little inconvenient to think of me. That’s what my feelings were, Guerin,” he said. “To them. And to you. An inconvenience. But hey, at least I’m smart. So I’m still useful. For now.”

A tear rolled down Michael’s cheek though Alex’s eyes remained dry.

He leaned in. “I don’t want to find Mr. Jones,” Alex said, “because I want to pretend a little longer. I want to pretend that I’m still special to you. Just for a little longer. And then I’ll try a little bit harder to find him. Okay? And then none of you will ever have to worry about feeling guilty about me again.”

“Y-You want me to pick you up some lunch?”

“Civilians aren’t allowed inside.”

“How about dinner?” Michael offered. “I could meet you at the bar?”

Alex glanced over from where he was laying his head against the car window, watching the desert plains and clouds roll by.

“A new place,” he quickly amended. “They serve food there, too.”

“As long as Maria doesn’t see us,” Alex said with a sigh. “I don’t want her to get hurt. Even if this is only temporary.”

As Michael drove, he kept glancing at Alex. The airman wouldn’t move, and if he knew about Michael spending the night with him, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he really had been deeply asleep. Michael took some pride in that, at least, though Alex’s words from the diner kept echoing in his head.

“Are you going somewhere?” he said after a pause. “After this thing with Mr. Jones is done?”

Alex gave a half-smile. “So you saw the boxes.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Where, Alex?”

“You knew about it beforehand,” Alex said. “You knew I was thinking of leaving to the reservation. You were angry about it then, too.” He scoffed. “For some reason though, you’re trying to hide it now.”

“You want me to get really angry?”

“I don’t want you to hide it,” Alex corrected. “At most, we’ll get a day together. Better just say what you have to say.”

“Don’t go.”

“It’ll be okay, Guerin,” he said, smiling softly. “When you get your memories back, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.”

“How can you _say_ that?” he hissed. Damn the lump in his throat, he couldn’t breathe. “Was I really okay with it before?”

“No,” Alex said. “You’ve never been okay with me leaving.”

“Then why –”

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he said. “I said it won’t hurt _as much_. But I need to leave, Guerin. I’m so alone here, I’m scared I’ll die if I stay.”

“You’re not alone, you have _me_ ,” Michael said desperately.

Alex shook his head. A minute. Two. Five. Ten. “Tell me again when you get your memories back.”

“And you’ll stay?”

“You know me, Guerin,” Alex said softly, going back to staring out the window. “I can’t refuse you. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“He’s my life,” Michael said, laying on his back on Max’s couch, staring at his ceiling. “I can’t live without him, Max, I can’t.”

Max heaved a sigh from his desk. “Then tell _him_ that.”

“He said he’d stay if I asked him to.”

“Really?” even Max didn’t sound like he could believe it.

Michael shook his head. “No, you didn’t hear his voice,” he said. “He said it like . . . like he knew I’d never ask.”

“Michael, Alex loves you. He’s just a little –”

“Angry? Disappointed? Miserable?”

“ _Tired_ ,” Max said more gently. “He’s been through a lot, you both have.” With a mutter, he added, “We _all_ have.”

“You told him to lie to me.”

“He would’ve done it anyway,” Max said. “That’s who he is, Michael. If it means protecting _you_ , he’d do anything. Even Forrest knew that.”

Michael frowned, lifting his head up to look at Max. “ _Who_?”

“You know,” his brother said distractedly, looking through his journals. “Forrest Long.”

“The Nazi guy with the blue hair? What does he have to do with Alex?”

“Hello? He’s his ex? What, did you forget?”

Michael sat up now. “His _ex_?!”

Max’s eyes fell shut, the journal falling from his hand. “Crap, you did forget.”

“Alex d-dated . . .” he laughed, incredulous. “He dated _Forrest Long_?”

“Michael,” he held up a hand. “Okay, hang on –”

“WHEN?!” he demanded, on his feet.

Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “About the day Maria broke up with you. Alex – okay, just wait, I – I don’t know the details, Isobel does – but she told me that you guys were at the Pony on – damn, what was it? – Open Mic Night, I think?”

“ _And_?” he pressed.

“I told you, _Isobel_ was the one with you when it happened,” he huffed. “She said Alex got up to perform.”

Michael faltered. “ _Alex_ did? He sang a song? In front of the whole bar?”

“A love song he wrote,” Max said more quietly, but Michael didn’t pick up on the tone. His Alex had gone up on stage and sang in front of people? All he’d ever wanted to do was make music, and he’d done it. He’d created a song – a _love_ song – and he’d sung it in front of a bar full of cowboys.

He smiled, pride and love blooming in his chest. “That’s my boy,” he whispered.

“He sang a love song . . . for you.”

“For me?”

“Michael, would you _listen_ to me?” Max said, almost desperate.

Michael’s smile widened for a second before it fell apart. “W-Wait, where does Forrest come into this?”

Max sighed, rubbing his face. “You left midway through,” he said. “Forrest was there that night, too. But you said it wasn’t your time, or – or something like that.” He shrugged. “Next thing you knew, Alex and Forrest were together.”

“I . . . I left?” Michael sat down slowly in the armchair opposite him. “I just . . . left him there?”

“Michael . . .” he opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything for what Michael had done. Finally, he settled on, “Alex was really happy with Forrest. It wasn’t for nothing. It was what he’d needed –”

“ _I’M_ WHAT HE NEEDS!” Michael snapped, his eyes burning. He slammed his fist on the desk. “Alex is _MINE_. He’s mine, Max.”

Michael’s fist trembled. Brief, horrifying images came to mind of Alex in bed with that emo, his hands on Alex’s naked waist, his naked chest, his naked back, his strong arms, his ass, his –

“AH!” he screamed, and the entire house trembled.

“Whoa!” Max struggled to his feet. “Michael, CALM DOWN!”

Michael pushed his curls back roughly, his whole body shaking now. He closed his eyes, shoving the thoughts away. He thought of his Alex – his imaginary Alex – who he had spent this entire past year with.

Whenever people at work or at the bar or even his siblings had pissed Michael off, when his powers had gotten out of control and the world had lost balance, there was Alex to cover Michael’s fist with his soft hand, to pull Michael’s head onto his shoulder, to rake his fingers through Michael’s curls.

_“Shh,”_ he would say. _“I’m here. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”_

Michael imagined Alex here, his hand on Michael’s back, in his hair, his lips leaving kisses along Michael’s palm and wrist. He huffed, and the house stopped shaking at once.

Max sighed, picking up his fallen journals. “Damn it, Michael.”

“I want to see Alex,” he breathed heavily. “I – I want to see him now.”

Max came around the desk and put his hands on Michael’s shoulders. “You can’t. He’s at the base until nine, remember? Didn’t you say – hey, look at me – didn’t you say you were going to dinner together?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he took Michael’s face in his hands. “Then you’ll see him at nine for dinner.” He let go, relieved when it was apparent that Michael wouldn’t blow anything up. “Everything’s going to be okay, you know?”

_“I’m so alone here, I’m scared I’ll die if I stay.”_

“You can tell Alex all about how much you love him and want him to stay.”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Hey, speaking of which, has Alex found anything on Mr. Jones yet?” Max asked. “Isobel and I are trying to talk to the locals, but everyone’s either drunk half the day or an alien-nut.”

“No,” Michael said. “No, h-he’s looking, but – that asshole’s messing with him.”

Max sighed. “Maybe ask him to take it easy? Guy deserves a break.”

Michael scoffed. “For pretending that I wasn’t killing him every time I said his name?”

“He’s hurt,” Max said. “He’ll be okay. He’s tougher than you give him credit for.”

_“I want to pretend that I’m still special to you. Just for a little longer.”_

Michael swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yeah. He is.”

*

Walking into a bar with Michael at his side was weird.

On the one hand, Alex knew they wouldn’t be discussing strategy or Caulfield or yet another trauma courtesy of the famous Manes family. On the other, Alex had no idea what to expect.

Michael had wanted to put an arm around him, but Alex could only push himself so far, even for a fantasy of his own, and he kept his hands in his pockets and let Michael put a hand on his lower back instead.

“Okay,” Michael muttered at some point after they’d taken two stools opposite one another. “You don’t want me touching you, I won’t touch you.”

Alex winced. “It’s not that, Guerin. Believe me, I – I _want_ you to touch me.” Michael’s eyes lit up and he was starting to lean in. Alex put a hand on his chest. “But I won’t be able to look you in the eye afterwards.”

“After what?” Michael demanded. “After I get my memories back? Alex, I _love_ you, I wouldn’t regret _any_ of this.”

“It’s not just that,” Alex murmured, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s because you see me and her together every time, right?” he said. “I belong to _you_ , Private.”

Alex looked away, reaching for a menu. Damn the heat that wouldn’t leave his face, the desire to take Michael into the bathroom and do unspeakable things to him. He wished he could push himself past it, ignore his heart racing in his ears, and just enjoy whatever attention he got now. For what felt like the hundredth time in two weeks, Alex desperately wished that what Michael said was true. He wished he could believe him.

“So,” Michael started after a long silence took over. “Forrest Long, huh?”

Alex took a sip of his drink. “Who told you?”

Michael stared, his gaze intense. “It’s true, then? You really dated someone else?”

Alex hummed. He could feel Michael’s eye on him twitching.

“And where is he now?”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “New York. He decided it was time to go back.”

“And . . . _he_ broke up with _you_?”

Alex felt a sting in his chest at the memory of Forrest’s sad smile. He sniffed. “Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t want to be with someone who was always going to be in love with someone else.”

Michael blinked, his anger fading away almost at once. “Me? You broke up because of _me_?”

“No, we broke up because of _me_ ,” Alex said wearily. “I couldn’t let you go, and he realized I wasn’t going to.”

He was so tired of running this conversation over in his head. Too many times, he’d pretended Michael cared enough to ask why Alex and his boyfriend had broken up, but the real one never did. Alex guessed that meant what he did and who he did it with really didn’t matter to Michael.

Michael suddenly cupped his jaw over the table and his kissed his cheek, startling Alex out of his thoughts.

“You really are mine,” he whispered as his forehead rested on Alex’s temple. “You’re all mine, Alex.”

“Guerin –”

_“I like Maria, okay?”_

Alex flinched.

Michael frowned. “You okay? Alex?”

“I – I need to – g-go to the bathroom.”

“Alex –”

“I’ll be right back,” Alex moved off the stool and made his way to the men’s room. He splashed his face with cold water and let his breaths calm.

_“So no. I’m saying no.”_

Alex growled in frustration, and he splashed his face with more water, gripping the sink for dear life. If Michael could remember, he wouldn’t be the way he was now. He wouldn’t have even asked Alex out to dinner. He’d never thought Alex was worth putting that risk. Maria had been, but not him.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t pretend, he didn’t have the strength for it.

_“GO! I DON’T LOVE YOU, I DON’T!”_

Alex’s knuckles on the edges of the sink turned white. He had been so sure that Michael was lying then, but ever since Maria . . .

Alex dried his face and straightened in front of the mirror. He looked at his reflection, staring back at him. _Just a little longer_ , he’d told Michael, and told himself that, too. _Just a little longer._ After he regained his memories, he would never ask Alex to stay. Alex was sure of that.

He exhaled shakily before he left the bathroom – and he froze, hugging himself as another odd shiver ran down his spine. He was being watched, he _knew_ he was. But by who?

He never got to find out, because just then, he was stopped by a man’s arm in front of him.

“Hey,” the man said.

The chill slowly subsided, and Alex huffed, rubbing his forearms. “Could you move please?”

“I’m Austin,” he said, ignoring Alex’s request.

 _Oh great,_ Alex thought. _One of those._

He was tall and traditionally handsome. Too clean cut for Alex, as though he spent way too much time in front of the mirror, perfecting that ‘I don’t really care how I look, but have you noticed how many hours I spent _not caring_?’ look. Also just another guy who didn’t want the world to know what he was, and thought he could pick up any guy at the bar to be his treat for the month.

“Okay,” Alex said, and turned around Austin towards his table. It was crowded, and he couldn’t see Michael.

“It’s cool, I get it,” Austin said, following him. “You’ve had a long day, you’re just trying to enjoy your night.”

“Exactly, so –”

Austin suddenly grabbed Alex’s arm and turned him so that they were facing each other. Alex thought he was being incredibly generous by letting Austin keep his arm.

“I can help with that,” he said suggestively in what Alex assumed was meant to be sexy. It was not.

Alex looked down at Austin’s hand on his arm, and back up at Austin’s face, thoroughly unimpressed. “You have two seconds to get away from me.” Austin’s face fell. “One –”

But no sooner had Alex said it than Austin was roughly shoved off him. Michael stood there behind him, smirking humorlessly to hide his heavy breathing. Austin had hit the wall with the force that he’d been pushed, and Alex had no doubt that Michael had used his powers to gain a little extra strength.

He leaned into Austin’s space, and said, “You touch my boyfriend again, and you’ll lose a lot more than your _balance_.” Without another word, Michael grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled him along after him, outside the bar, towards the truck.

“Guerin – _ow_ – hold on!” Alex had gotten good at walking without too much of a limp, but Michael was striding across the grounds, too quick and too _angry_ for Alex to catch up.

Michael seemed to realize that he was hurting Alex, and he stopped at once, catching the airman who stumbled right into his chest.

“Sorry,” he breathed, his arms around Alex tight, his hand in Alex’s hair shivering. “I’m – I’m sorry, baby.”

“Guerin . . .?” Alex didn’t understand. Had Michael been _scared_ for him? No, that couldn’t be it. Then he realized, Michael wasn’t scared at all. He was _furious_. “It’s okay,” he murmured, hugging him back, running his hands up and down Michael’s spine. “I’m okay.”

Finally, when they pulled back, Alex held Michael’s face and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. The more he touched him, the more Michael seemed to calm.

Alex put their foreheads together. “Shh,” he spoke softly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Michael looked pained as he took tight hold of Alex’s wrists, but Alex kept touching him, wherever he could reach. After a long moment, he said, “How about we get takeout instead?”

Michael huffed a chuckle, his breath turning to small puffs of clouds between their faces. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

So they gathered food from the Crashdown, and set up in Alex’s kitchen. Michael slid into a chair opposite Alex, and Alex pursed his lips and hesitated before he pulled up the stool next to him and said, “Come sit here.”

Michael looked like he feared Alex was playing a cruel joke on him, but when it was evident he wasn’t, Michael smiled wider than Alex had seen of him in days, and he slid in close to the airman, his legs wide to bracket Alex.

Alex cleared his throat and avoided Michael’s eyes as he moved the food from containers to plates, his cheeks burning.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Hm?”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Alex blinked. “What?”

Michael wasn’t looking at Alex, his smile small. “This entire year’s been fake. Everything I thought I’d known about you must be fake, too, right? Stuff Mr. Jones made me think I know.”

“Oh,” he said softly. Michael’s expression was somewhat lost, even afraid. Alex straightened his shoulders. “Well, what do _you_ think my favorite movie is?”

Michael scoffed. “I take it it’s not that first Lord of the Rings flick?”

“No, it’s . . .” Alex frowned. “Yes, actually, it is. That’s _exactly_ it, Michael – how do you know that? Did Mr. Jones put that in your mind?”

“No, I – I just remember you telling me a few months ago.”

Alex thought hard about when he last . . .

His eyes widened. “Yeah, I did. _Once_. And I was telling Kyle, not you. You . . . you were listening?”

“I always listen when you talk.”

Alex stared. “Favorite song then?”

“That Black Parade one,” Michael said easily. “Isn’t it?”

He huffed. “How do you know _that_?”

“The day after Max’s funeral,” Michael said with a sniff. “It’s what you were listening to on your earphones when I came to see you. I glanced at your phone and saw it. The details of that day keep switching around, but I remember _you_. I remember you clearly.”

Alex shook his head. “Favorite food?”

“Seafood,” Michael shrugged. “You’ll eat anything from the ocean. You joked about it once in the bunker.” He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused now. “Do you know mine?”

Alex waved the question off. “Chicken wings. But . . . you actually do care about what I like?” He shook his head before Michael could answer. “No, no, that – that can’t be it. You’re a genius, you must just memorize whatever you hear.”

Michael’s smiled dimmed. “Alex, that’s not true.”

“You better start eating,” Alex said with a quick press of his lips together. “The food will get cold.”

As they ate, Alex and Michael continued their conversation in bits. Michael knew Alex liked reading almost as much as Max did, knew of Alex’s inability to write anywhere but at home, and he knew that Alex hated, above all else, the sound of screaming.

They were all details he couldn’t have known through Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones, after all, couldn’t get into a person’s head that intimately. He may have known what a person was thinking, but not their likes and dislikes, not what they hated and loved. Those were matters of the heart, and Alex was convinced, by the end of their meal, that all those times he’d thought that Michael wasn’t bothering with anything he was saying, he’d actually been listening attentively.

“Think I can take the extra churros?” Michael asked as they cleaned up. “Isobel loves that stuff.”

“Sure,” Alex grinned. “Just tell her not to go near the Wild Pony.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged. “Maria’s allergy.” At the confused lilt to Michael’s brow, Alex added, “To cinnamon?” He frowned. “How could you not know? She’s been telling us that long before you guys were together. Like her thing about hating marshmallows?”

Michael shook his head.

Alex tilted his head. “What about . . . Liz’s obsession with tacos? Or Max hating tomatoes? Or what about Isobel being terrified of spiders?”

“Are you making this up?”

“No!” he laughed. “ _Geez_ , this is stuff that comes up all the time!”

Michael shrugged, placing their plates in the rack after washing them. “Here’s the thing, Private. If it’s not you, I don’t care. Never have.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. He stared at Michael’s face. “Why?”

Michael met Alex’s gaze. “You really can’t begin to understand what you are to me, Manes.”

Alex blushed, and Michael, catching him off guard, leaned in and kissed his cheek, as if he’d been dying to do it for days and was finally taking his chance. Alex reached up and gently touched the spot where Michael’s lips had been.

Michael looked pleased with himself for managing to land a kiss, and he grabbed the bag of food. “Well . . . goodnight, Private.”

He turned to leave, and Alex shut his eyes. He should let him go.

Michael made it as far as the living room before Alex grabbed his wrist.

“Wait.” Michael raised a tentative brow at him, and Alex’s grip only tightened. “Stay here,” he said. “Sleep with me.”

Michael stared. Alex let him go. “Not – damn it, you know what I mean. Just – Just sleeping. And besides, it’s better than sneaking into my house again in the middle of the night.”

Michael looked around at everything but Alex. “You knew about that?”

“I’m trained to recognize the slightest disturbance,” Alex said with a roll of his eyes. “Of course I knew.”

“Then why didn’t you kick me out?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Alex muttered, embarrassed. “I like when you’re here. And I can’t sleep unless you’re there, either.”

Michael finally looked at Alex, his gaze so overwhelmed and loving that Alex couldn’t take it for long. He cleared his throat and stepped back, towards the hallway. “I’m – uh – I’m going to bed now. If you wanna . . . come and hold me.”

At once, the bag fell from Michael’s hand to the floor and he followed Alex slowly, as if afraid that any quick movements were going to scare Alex into changing his mind.

Alex exhaled shakily, silently, as they finally reached the bedroom, and he changed out of his clothes. He could feel Michael’s eyes on him as he stripped, taking off his prosthetic and putting on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Behind him, he heard Michael breathe heavily as he took his own clothes off.

“H-Here,” Alex offered a pair of pajamas without looking at him.

“I like to sleep in my underwear,” he said, and Alex shut his eyes. That was a total lie, and Alex knew it was. But he _wanted_ Michael so badly, he wanted him as close as possible, and if Michael didn’t want to wear clothes, then Alex couldn’t lie to himself and say the idea of curling up with him half-naked in bed wasn’t appealing.

“Fine,” he said, and lifted his leg up, curling underneath the covers. He kept them open for Michael to join. Alex kept his back to him, his body tense.

As he’d expected and feared, the second Michael touched his hip, his body shuddered. The cowboy was obviously being careful, every move with apprehension and eagerness fighting at once.

Michael lay down behind him, his chest pressed to Alex’s back, and Alex’s eyes fluttered shut. He could _feel_ Michael’s naked skin through his shirt, and he suddenly wished he had taken off his own clothes. Still, they didn’t seem to create any barrier for Michael as he slung a leg over Alex’s, his hips pressed to Alex’s tightly, as if he couldn’t bear be an inch away.

Alex felt Michael’s forearm on his stomach as he breathed, his own hand under his head. He tried to sleep, but Michael was clearly nuzzling his hair, his lips brushing the nape of Alex’s neck.

Alex thought sleep would come soon enough, as it always did when Michael was there, but several long minutes passed and Alex lay wide awake, staring into the darkness of his room with Michael breathing against him, his arm somehow _tightening_ around Alex’s waist.

Alex shut his eyes, but he could still feel every inch of Michael against him. Then an hour or two past midnight, Alex felt something . . . hard.

He stilled. Could that be what he thought it was?

The answer came almost immediately as Michael moaned under his breath. “Alex,” he breathed. “ _Baby_.”

Alex didn’t move a muscle. But Michael’s slight thrusts against his ass, his cock growing harder and harder as he moaned against the shell of Alex’s ear – it all became a little too much to ignore.

He felt Michael’s hand slide under his shirt and he gasped. It was enough, it seemed, to wake up Michael.

“What?” was the first thing he said, his voice hoarse and breathy, as if he was coming off from another moan.

Alex waited for Michael behind him to realize what was going on. He heard the cowboy’s sharp intake of breath, felt Michael’s hips move back, his arm starting to loosen.

Alex clenched his jaw. _Damn it._ He covered Michael’s hand on his stomach with his own, interlocking their fingers. He felt Michael still himself.

“Alex?”

“Do what you want,” Alex said, and turned his face more into his pillow. “Just don’t put it in.”

“I . . .” he paused, probably making sure he wasn’t still dreaming. “R-Really? I could do anything?”

Alex’s face was so hot he thought his clothes had caught fire. He wanted to let go, relinquish control. Only to Michael. He hummed.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Alex felt Michael’s hard length rub against his ass again.

Michael groaned, but as he thrusted more, harder, he didn’t seem to think there was any reason to keep it down.

“Ah,” he moaned loudly. The sound and his desperate gasps made Alex’s own cock twitch.

Then Alex felt Michael’s hand dip beneath his waistband. He bit his lower lip hard as Michael hesitated, as if waiting to see if Alex would stop him, but Alex didn’t.

“ _Alex_ ,” he breathed, lowering himself down. Alex felt Michael’s open kisses along his naked waist, his hip, his ass cheek. He spread Alex’s cheeks apart, kissing and licking as he went. “Oh, baby, you taste so good.”

Alex’s knuckles turned white with how hard he was gripping the sheets. His cock hardened more and more, and all he could do was moan breathily into his pillow. The sound seemed to spur Michael on, and he swiped his tongue over Alex’s hole hungrily, grinding his fully hard cock into Alex’s leg.

With one hand, Michael pushed Alex’s t-shirt up past his nipples, and came back up to hold him tightly. This time, as Michael had disposed of his underwear, Alex could actually feel the cowboy’s hard, hairy chest against his back, his hardened nipples, his stomach, his pubic hair. Michael thrusted his cock in between Alex’s ass cheeks, but he didn’t slip it into his hole.

Alex sort of wished he would.

“Yeah,” Michael moaned. “ _Yeah_ , baby. Yeah, you like that? Alex, I – _ah_!”

Without warning, Michael reached a hand down between Alex’s legs and took his hardened cock in his hand, fingering the slit, and making Alex cry out.

“Yeah, baby,” Michael breathed against his ear. “Scream for me. I want to hear you – _ah_ – _AH!_ ” As he thrusted, he took Alex’s earlobe in his teeth, biting at the sensitive skin.

They both came almost at the same time, and Alex saw stars. He panted against his pillow while Michael panted against Alex’s shoulder, still kissing whatever he could reach.

Alex hadn’t felt that good from being touched in too long. He wondered if Michael felt the same way.

Before he could suggest that they clean up, Michael turned Alex onto his back, and moved to hover over him.

“Guerin?”

“I won’t put it in,” Michael assured him, and laid down halfway on top of Alex so that their softened cocks glided against one another. The two moaned against each other’s skin at the oversensitivity, but Alex wrapped his good leg around Michael and held him tighter until the feeling between his thighs faded to something more bearable.

He slumped back, and Michael bit his lip as he grinned, running his fingers down Alex’s jaw. He seemed to hesitate for all of two seconds before he hungrily took Alex’s lips in his. “I love you,” he breathed against his lips. “I love you.”

Alex put a hesitant hand on his back, his body shivering as he felt more of Michael’s naked skin.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Michael smiled softly and pressed their foreheads together for a moment before laying his head on the pillow beside Alex. Alex leaned down and kissed his shoulder. Michael’s smile widened against his skin, but he said nothing else as he drifted off to sleep, all the while Alex murmuring, “I’m here. I’m here.”

_For now_ , he thought, his heart heavier than it had ever been. _I’m here for now._

“You need to dump him,” Kyle said when Alex told him the problem he was facing.

“I can’t,” Alex said. “We’re not dating.”

“Yeah, Alex, you kinda are.” He huffed. “God, I _knew_ this was a bad idea the first time. As soon as his memories had gone missing, _you_ in particular should’ve stayed far away.”

“And ghosted him? Just left him terrified that’d done something to make me hate him?”

Kyle turned from his locker with wide, incredulous eyes. He looked around for help, stuttering, and in a hysterical tone said, “HE HAD!”

Alex slumped against the wall. “I’ve never hated him, Kyle.”

“No, you’re right, you haven’t,” he said, yanking his doctor’s coat out. “But it was worse, wasn’t it? Because you couldn’t trust him. And now . . . what, you do?”

“It’s not that I . . . I just . . .” he shook his head and growled in frustration. “Sometimes, I think he really did love me. That he really did just date Maria because – I don’t know, because it was easier than what was going on between us and he needed a break.”

Kyle scoffed. “Yeah, quick water break.”

“Stop it,” he said wearily. “I’m not loving this either.”

“Then find Mr. Jones.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” he said, his voice strained to his own ears. “I wasn’t doing my best a few days ago, I’ll admit it. But after that night, I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Kyle’s expression softened. “Wait for what, Alex?”

Alex shrugged helplessly. “To know the truth?”

Kyle held his gaze for a long moment, then shook his head at the ceiling. “Can I ask you something? How much more can you take?”

Alex swallowed around the lump in his throat. He said in a light voice that he did not remotely feel, “I’m good for a little longer.”

Alex parked in the junkyard next to Michael’s truck, turned the engine off, and just sat there.

As he looked around at the familiar airstream and chairs and bonfire he hadn’t visited in so long – the ones he hadn’t had a _reason_ to visit – he didn’t think of the times he and Michael had spent inside, he thought of the mornings after. He didn’t think of the spaceship Michael had shown him, he thought of Michael letting him go after he’d given that missing piece back. He didn’t think of coming to talk to Michael, to get to know him. Instead, he thought of Maria’s necklace, of waiting for hours in a chair for a truck that wouldn’t come, of walking away and never once being asked to stay. Never the one chosen.

Tears fell down Alex’s cheeks. His brows knit with confusion, for he hadn’t felt them forming. He sniffled and wiped them away quickly, a single dry sob escaping his lips despite himself.

He had thought he wouldn’t cry again. Why was he crying now?

Michael came around the airstream, evidently working on a car in the back. Alex hurriedly wiped what was left of his tears and stepped out into the cold desert wind, mustering a smile.

“Hey,” Michael’s grin widened as he neared him. He picked Alex up and spun him. He set him back on the ground and pulled back. “I was just about to call you . . .” His smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

But Michael’s expression turned way too serious way too quickly as he reached up and brushed a thumb across Alex’s eye. Alex couldn’t help but lean into the touch, exhaling softly against Michael’s palm.

“You were crying,” he said.

“No, I wasn’t,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word.

Michael clenched his jaw. “Was it because of me?”

Alex tried to shake his head, but even then the tears formed again, blurring his vision, and his lower lip trembled. He covered his face with his hands.

“Oh my god,” Michael breathed, pulling Alex in against him.

“I’m trying,” Alex cried. “I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying.”

“It’s okay,” Michael promised, holding him so tightly that Alex struggled to breathe. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.”

And as he held him, all Alex could say was that he was trying. Trying to forget, trying to forgive, trying to _believe_.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’m trying.”

That was how Alex found himself, an hour later, sitting in front of Michael’s airstream, in the same chair he’d once waited in, with a mug of tea in his hands.

“Here,” Michael offered him a paper plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Isobel keeps bringing ‘em over.”

“No, thanks,” Alex said. Then Michael insisted and Alex took one to make him smile. Which he did. He set the plate between them and sat down himself.

Alex tapped his mug with a finger. “Guerin, I’m sorry. I – I thought I had it under control.”

He pursed his lips. “Way I see it, _it_ is only there because I put it there. I want to hurt myself for what I did to you, Alex.”

Alex frowned. “Don’t say stuff like that. If anything ever happened to you, it would _kill me_. That’s why I went along with this whole thing in the first place!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have!” he snapped, his expression pained. “It’s been tearing you apart! Did you think that was gonna make me happy?!”

Alex looked down at his mug, shaking his head. “I guess I just wanted to be with you, too.”

“ _Alex_ . . .” he breathed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Is it really that bad on the other side?”

Alex didn’t answer for a while. Then, “Our timing always sucked. We didn’t really talk much.”

“I . . . remember.”

Alex frowned. Michael was looking at him as if he’d committed a crime against him and wanted to know how he could be forgiven. “I . . . remember you. You wanted to stay. And I kept . . . telling you to leave.”

Michael exhaled, a tear falling. “Is that – I thought it was a nightmare. It was real? You tried to be closer to me, and I kept trying to push you away?”

“Guerin,” he said softly. “It’s okay –”

“ _Okay_?” His voice trembled. “That’s why you were crying, because it’s so okay?”

“My turn,” Alex said with a small upward lilt of his lips. He set his mug and cookie down and sat on the armrest of Michael’s chair, pulling him in against him.

Michael hung onto him for dear life.

The wind whistled past them. In the distance, a small sand twister formed and disappeared almost as quickly. The setting sun blazed down and Michael smelled like the usual grease and alcohol-of-the-day, and beneath it all, a soft rainstorm.

“Maybe we should just stay here,” Michael said into Alex’s chest after a long while. “Like this. Forever.”

“Sure,” Alex said. “You know if vampires exist?”

Michael huffed a chuckle. He turned his face into Alex. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Alex held him tighter, pressing his cheek to Michael’s curls. He inhaled his scent, his heart overwhelmed with the love he felt for this man. “I love your laugh,” he said quietly, the wind carrying the words as soon as he’d said them and surrounding them with it.

Michael looked up at Alex, his eyes falling to Alex’s lips. Alex hesitated, then leaned down, letting Michael take his lips in his own. It was only for a second, but the kiss sent shivers up Alex’s spine. He was always the kind to be freezing no matter where he was. Now it left him trembling.

Michael frowned, his hand sliding up Alex’s back and making him shiver more. “You cold?”

“A – A little.”

“Hang on,” he started to stand. “I’ll go get you a jacket.”

“Stay,” Alex said, getting to his feet first. “I’ll get it.” In a mumble, he added, “I’m the one that needs to get a grip.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Alex opened the door to the airstream, the small space so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crossed over to the small closet beside the bed, and pulled out the brown jacket that Michael wore all the time. He pressed his nose to it and inhaled, his eyes fluttering shut at the scent.

He started to put it on as he was making his way to the door when his eyes caught something. In a box under the window, right across Michael’s bed, was a spaceship piece. Alex stared. He came over and pulled it out, his touch leaving glimmering ripples across the surface. Next to that was the spaceship piece that Alex had given him months ago.

Alex frowned. “Why . . .?”

Why hadn’t Michael put it with the rest of the spaceship once he’d gotten it back? Why hadn’t he left it in the bunker where it would be safe?

Alongside that, Alex saw letters from Tripp, all describing Nora, Michael’s mother. It was almost like having a picture of her. Alex’s heart started to hurt the more he read. He understood now. This box was marked with everything to do with Michael’s family. His most precious mementos.

“Alex?” Michael called from outside, and Alex blinked out of his thoughts.

He was just starting to put the things back, to tell Michael he was coming. Then he stopped. There, at the bottom of the box, was a picture he recognized.

Slowly, holding his breath, he pulled it out. It was an old picture of himself and Michael when they were seventeen, taken on a fieldtrip. He remembered that day. He’d walked off to strum on his guitar by himself. He’d had no idea that Michael had wandered so close to him, that someone had taken a picture of them together, that Michael had kept it.

_Why had he kept it?_

There was nothing else in that box save for a picture or two of Michael and his siblings. But Alex . . . Alex was the only other person in there. Michael’s memory of Alex was the only one he had ever wanted to keep.

With a jolt, he realized his eyes were filled with tears again. A wet laugh sounded.

“What a miserable liar,” he cried, and laughed and laughed.

“Alex?” Michael came in. He caught sight of Alex first, then the photo.

Alex held it up, shaking his head. “You stupid cowboy. All this time?”

Michael came up slowly and took the picture from Alex, probably confused as to why this small thing could make Alex cry.

He blushed. “It . . . it was all I had of you. Are you mad?”

Alex shook his head. “No,” he breathed. “No, I’m not mad.” He surged forward and kissed Michael’s lips. It didn’t start out soft, and it wouldn’t be getting any softer.

Michael seemed startled only for a second, but he quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist.

“I love you,” Alex whispered against his lips before he kissed him again. “I love you, I love you, _I love you_.”

“Alex,” Michael sounded a cry of his own in the back of his throat, and he kissed Alex harder.

Alex shed Michael’s jacket and his own. He led Michael back onto his bed, and Michael readily caught him, pulling him down with him.

Alex could suddenly feel the prosthetic undoing itself and walking over to lay itself down against the counter. He giggled as Michael pulled him in tighter against him, and Michael looked like he might die at the sound.

They rested their foreheads together to breathe, Michael’s open mouth hovering over Alex’s for only a moment before he leaned in again, taking Alex’s lips in long, lingering, hungry kisses.

Alex bit his lower lip as he pulled Michael’s shirt up and over his shoulders. He moaned as he ran a hand down Michael’s hairy chest, his thumb scratching down Michael’s hardened nipples. Michael groaned against Alex’s lips, and his hips grinded into him, his hands desperately clawing at the hem of Alex’s own shirt.

As soon as he got rid of it, Michael moved to hover over him, pressing their chests together, their naked stomachs, reveling in the touch of skin against skin.

“Touch me,” Alex urged.

“ _Alex_ –”

“No, Guerin,” Alex took Michael’s hand off his jaw, kissed his palm, then directed it down to his own hardened, clothed cock. “ _Touch me_.”

When Michael’s eyes met Alex’s again, they were pitch black. “Really?”

“ _Please_ ,” Alex panted.

Alex had never seen Michael undress so quickly, his cock already hard as stone. He kissed down Alex’s body, his hands touching whatever he could reach. Wherever his tongue landed, that’s where he’d suck a bruise into Alex’s skin, and Alex winced and moaned and _loved_ it.

When Michael suddenly spread his legs, his tongue deep in Alex’s hole, Alex all but screamed. As he slowly fingered him open, he caught Alex’s open mouth in wet kisses, sticking his tongue in and sucking on Alex’s.

“You taste so good,” he breathed. “I missed you. I missed you so much, baby.”

Alex dug his fingers through Michael’s curls, pulling him in, keeping him in place as he kissed him hungrily.

When Michael went in, Alex’s head fell back, his chest rose and fell against Michael’s as he breathed heavily, adjusting to the familiar, loving weight of his cowboy’s thick, hard cock. He thrusted up eagerly so that Michael was in all the way, and Michael cursed against his lips.

“I _love_ you,” Michael groaned as he thrusted deeply, his mouth hanging open, groaning Alex’s name with every move of his hips.

“Ah – _ah_ – I – I love you, too.”

Michael kissed him harder so that all Alex could _breathe_ was him. Their bodies were damp, the bed creaking underneath them, but still Michael thrusted, drawing it out for as long as possible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Michael breathed, reaching down to grip Alex’s leaking cock. “I worship you, Alex.”

That had been it. Alex clutched Michael and barely managed to warn him before he was spurting hard all over his stomach and chest. The sight of Alex’s face, apparently, had been enough for Michael and he came himself, his lips pressed to Alex’s in a bruising kiss.

As they each came down from their high, the sky outside long since turned to black, Michael panting against Alex’s mouth before kissing him sloppily, Alex found himself reaching for more and more of Michael, kissing whatever his lips could touch, running his fingers down whatever bit of naked skin he could reach. He didn’t feel any regret or fear at being abandoned. He could only see Michael and his love for him now.

Michael as he laid down beside him, as he kissed Alex’s hand up to his shoulder, the crook of his neck, his jaw, his lips. Michael as he cleaned them both off with his powers and pulled Alex in to rest his head on his chest.

“It’s always better than I remember,” Michael muttered, his fingers drawing slow, lazy circles on Alex’s back. “The feel of you –”

“Stop,” Alex blushed, hiding his face in Michael’s chest. “That’s embarrassing.”

He hummed and it fell away to a low, rumbling chuckle that Alex could feel against his ear. It made him smile.

“Not for me. I love it.” Alex felt a kiss on the top of his head. “I love talking about you. Your big brain, you even bigger heart.” He kissed Alex again. “Your _body_ , the way you shiver whenever I touch you, the way you blush at everything. Your tight, hot, wet ho—”

Alex pressed two fingers to Michael’s lips. “If you keep running your mouth like that, I’ll have to shut you up.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as he took Alex’s fingers in his mouth and sucked them, his tongue lapping at them eagerly. The feel of it made Alex’s cock twitch, and Michael moaned.

“And how would you do that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Alex said quietly, his hand reaching down until he could grab Michael’s length in one, tight grip.

The cowboy gasped, shuddering.

Alex grinned. “I have an idea or two.”

Michael lasted for all of a second before he surged forward to catch Alex’s lips in his. Right before their mouths touched, however, a familiar ring went off.

Alex frowned, turning to the source of the noise. What was that alarm for?

Michael was groaning. “No, no, no, ignore it,” he pleaded, pulling Alex back towards him. “You’re mine tonight, just ignore it.”

Alex sat up quickly, his eyes widening. “I can’t.” He remembered now. “That’s the heat signature radar.”

He scrambled for his phone out of his jeans, and pulled it out at the same time that Michael sat up, serious.

“Wait, the heat signature radar? You don’t mean . . .”

Alex checked his screen. He’d finally managed to catch a steady location. “I do,” he said. “Call Max and Isobel. Tell them we found Mr. Jones.”

*

“The pods?” demanded Isobel as Max drove at lightning speed to the caves. “All this time, he’s been going back to the pods?”

She sat in the back with Michael while Alex sat in the passenger’s seat to fill them in.

“That bastard,” Michael said. “ _Our_ ships. He’s coming to the only connection we have to home.”

“His home, too, remember?” Max said darkly. “He might try to hold onto those things, so we have to be careful.”

“We have a plan,” Alex assured them. “Just stick to it.”

Max and Alex had been devising a strategy the second Max and Isobel showed up at the junkyard, tossing Alex a gun that he easily caught. Michael had a vague recollection of being wooed the last time he’d seen Alex handle a weapon, and it did not fail to woo him now.

He tried catching Alex’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and Alex easily held it a few times, giving him the best reassuring look Michael knew he could muster, but even the cowboy could see Alex’s fear.

Was this it? The night Michael finally got his memories back? He half-hoped it wasn’t. He didn’t doubt his love for Alex – that was forever – but if he’d really done everything the others had told him he’d done, what if his own self-destruction got in the way again? There was something, something he couldn’t quite pick out, something he’d felt once about Alex. And it had always gotten in the way, he was sure of it. What was it? He couldn’t remember.

If he was finally able to, did that mean he and Alex would end?

Michael thought of Alex crying in his arms, begging him not to leave. His hands curled to fists in his lap. _Not Alex_ , he remembered thinking weeks ago. _Don’t forget Alex. He’s too important._

Whatever happened, Michael decided, he would fight for him. _Remember_ , he warned himself. _You can’t live without him. Hold onto him._

Alex looked over his shoulder at Michael and gave him a soft, comforting smile, as if he could hear his thoughts, and was absolving him of any promises made, silent or otherwise.

*

The four of them stood before the entrance to the caves where the pods usually stayed. Alex felt Michael take his hand, squeeze it, and let go. Alex nodded.

“Be careful,” he said in the Air Force Captain’s command that he’d been accustomed to using with his team. “Stay close.”

“Yes, captain,” Isobel said with a smirk.

Together, they made their way inside. This cave was nothing like the first one. It wasn’t deep underground and it didn’t take them an hour to find what they were looking for. In no time at all, they were standing in front of the pods where Alex had once stood, looking at a sleeping Max. But the clone that stood before them now, while he looked like Max, didn’t have any of his kindness in his malicious grin, none of the light in his dark, cruel eyes. He was a shadow, capable of swallowing the world into darkness.

Alex aimed his gun.

“Well now, look at you all,” he said, leaning against the cave wall beside the pods, his arms crossed, his face lit with the dim light of the spaceship. “I hoped I’d be seeing you soon.”

Max cocked his weapon. “Get away from our pods.”

“ _Your_ pods, huh?” he chuckled. There was nothing funny about that creature’s laugh. “Who do you think _sent_ you and your pods here, Wise Guy?”

“Word of advice,” Isobel scoffed. “Don’t expect a ‘Thank You’ card.”

“No, no, that’s true,” Mr. Jones said bashfully, scratching the back of his head. “Your experiences have been a little less than ideal. As I recall, _your_ husband turned out to be totally psycho.” Isobel’s eye twitched. Mr. Jones shrugged. “I never liked that guy anyway. Common caveman, no _style_ , you know?”

He turned to Max, his smile widening, “And _you_ . . . well, your girl’s not really around anymore, is she?”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Max grit out. Alex, all the while, had been taking small steps along the cave wall towards him. He could still feel the sting in his arm, the burn where the needle had poked him, but he took it as a good luck charm. He wasn’t alone. He glanced at Michael, Max, and Isobel. _I’m not alone._

“And _Michael_.” Alex stopped as Mr. Jones fixed him with cold, amused eyes. “How _has_ my gift been, boys? Enjoying it?”

“Give me my memories back,” Michael threatened. “Or I swear I’ll tear you apart.”

Mr. Jones made an exaggerated pout and a sound of mock sorrow. “You mean you _want_ to remember everything you’ve done? Your fear that kept you from the one person you wanted?” He pointed at Alex. “I helped you get closer to him!”

“You were torturing the both of us,” Michael spat. Alex clenched his jaw. He hated Mr. Jones, but everything he wanted to say, he pushed away and kept focused on the plan.

“Oh no, see, I know better,” he grinned at Alex. “And, you know, you didn’t look _that_ tortured to me. Not in the last few hours at least.”

Alex stopped, his stomach lurching as the horrible reality hit. The uncomfortable shivers down his spine, the feeling of someone’s eyes on him.

“It’s _you_ ,” he said, disgusted. “ _You’re_ the one that’s been watching me. You can see everything?”

Mr. Jones faltered. “That takes an awful lot of power, Alexander, I can’t do it _all_ the time.” He shrugged. “Guess it’s the reason you found me out tonight. I wanted another little sneak peek into my favorite duo, and I didn’t have enough power left to hide my trace when I got here. Oops!”

Michael scoffed. “So even the great Mr. Jones has his limits, huh?”

His grin twitched as he looked to Michael. “Careful, Mikey,” he said, his voice light but carrying no warmth or humor in the slightest. “I may not be as strong as I’d like to be, but decades of captivity will do that to you.” He smiled, tilting his head. “Your mother knew that.”

Michael’s face twisted and without warning, he screamed. The cave itself trembled and Alex stumbled slightly, but was able to use the confusion to get close to Mr. Jones.

“Come on now, Michael!” Mr. Jones laughed. “Stop overreacting!”

Michael was shaking, and still Max didn’t take a shot, one hand pointed at Mr. Jones, his other hand free to shoot electricity. Isobel didn’t use her powers either. Tugging on his sleeve, Alex checked to make sure the syringes were still there. He could do it now, he could run the extra few steps and surprise Mr. Jones.

Then Mr. Jones put a hand out in his direction, and he froze.

“Alex, Alex, _Alex_ ,” Mr. Jones tutted, and the cave went still. Michael’s eyes were wide and wild as Mr. Jones beckoned Alex forward. Alex’s legs carried him despite himself. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you there? You’re not as invisible as you’d like to be, buddy.” He winked at Michael. “At least, not to me.”

“Bastard, LET HIM GO!” Michael demanded, and Max put an arm out to keep his brother back, his free hand still aimed at Mr. Jones.

“Let him go,” Max said more calmly. “It’s us you want.”

“It’s all of you,” Mr. Jones sighed. “Look, y’all, I don’t want to do this – well, actually I do – but these Manes Men have always been such a _thorn_ in my side. And _you_ , little boy,” he said to Alex with something akin to a snarl, his façade breaking, “you’re the _worst_ of ‘em all.”

Alex grit his teeth. “Thank you.”

With his other hand, he moved Alex’s bangs back from his eyes. “I _am_ sorry to have to kill you. Such a pretty face.”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Michael screamed, and at once, the three combined their powers. Alex did as he knew he should, and collapsed. His gun had been tossed away.

Mr. Jones held up a hand, blocking their aims. At first, he’d looked almost bored, as if he’d been waiting for this attack. Then, as Max’s lightning grew stronger, as Isobel’s mind tricks gave way to exhaustion, as Michael’s powers shook the cave more and more violently, Mr. Jones put up two hands, the forcefield that protected him getting thinner and weaker.

“You don’t want to try to hurt me, remember?” he warned, his breathing already a little ragged. “I have one of yours here. And I still have enough power to kill him.”

This was Alex’s chance. He let the two syringes fall from his sleeves into his open palms, and jabbed one into Mr. Jones’s leg. When the alien knelt, screaming with pain, Alex jabbed the other one into his neck. Max, Isobel, and Michael stopped once Alex was on his feet. He was breathing heavily, his leg killing him.

“It turns out . . . injecting yourself with yellow pollen . . . makes you immune to alien attacks.” He lifted up his sleeve, revealing the needle mark in his arm. Mr. Jones’s eyes were quickly turning red.

“Alex is the only human we have,” Max said with a smirk.

“Bravest son of a bitch we know,” said Michael.

Isobel shrugged. “Cool, huh?”

Alex put a hand on Mr. Jones’s shoulder, and he winced in pain. “It’s like you said . . .” he leaned in, and repeated the words Mr. Jones had threatened him with last time. “ _I’m too clever_.”

Mr. Jones was shuddering. No, he was _laughing_. He looked up at the other aliens. “You know you three are going to get ‘im killed, right? And it won’t end with Alex. Liz’ll follow. Then that doctor friend. Then the other Manes Men. You guys never learn. _You’re not of these weaklings._ ”

“Weaklings?” Michael scoffed. “Look who’s talking. Pray tell, partner,” he leaned forward on his knees. “How are _you_ going to hurt _us_?”

Mr. Jones grinned, bloody and pained. Even as he glared at Michael, he tilted his head towards Alex. “By hurting _him_.”

Michael’s smile had barely fallen when he was suddenly launched backwards, hitting the cave wall so hard that when he fell, it was in a pool of his own blood, his head cut open.

“NO!” Alex screamed, and he and Max and Isobel ran to Michael’s limp body.

Mr. Jones was cackling. “So easy,” he muttered, his words already slurred as his eyes fluttered shut. “You humans are so easy to break.” And he passed out.

*

Waking up in Max’s house after being attacked by a psychotic alien was getting old.

Michael had woken up as suddenly as though from a nightmare, and sat up too quickly to a raging headache. He touched his head to feel a bandage wrapped tightly around it.

“Rise and shine, sleeping curly,” Kyle said. He was throwing away a pair of gloves, the windows wide open and the door closed to any visitors. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, rubbing his eyes. He stilled, his brows knit. “ _Yeah_ , I do. I remember.”

“That’s good.” Kyle put his hands in his pockets. “I only needed the one ‘yes,’ but –”

“No, that’s not what I –” he huffed. “Where’s everybody else?”

“In the living room, waiting,” Kyle said. “Looks like Mr. Jones wanted to hurt Alex the best way he knew how. Hurting you.”

Michael could hear the anger in his voice. “Uh oh, the doctor’s pissed.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “I’m too good a person to be pissed at you for getting attacked. And stop touching that, before it unravels. If your curls weren’t so annoying to deal with –”

“Why are you still here?”

“ _Because_ , jackass, some people are actually worried about you.” At Michael’s raised brow, Kyle rolled his eyes. “Not _me_! Max and Isobel and . . . and Alex. He called me, so I’m here. For him, not you.”

“Woof.”

“What? I don’t like you. That’s not a secret. Or did you forget about that, too?”

“Did you just take a blow at my amnesia? What kind of doctor are you?”

“The human kind,” he said, shutting his bag. “With _human_ patients to help.”

“The feeling’s definitely mutual, by the way,” Michael grinned. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He opened the door, but left his bag behind.

“You’re not staying, are you?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” he said. “I’m here for Alex.”

Kyle shut the door hard enough behind him to make the sound echo in Michael’s head, making his migraine worse. “Son of a . . .” he trailed off, thinking of Alex.

_Alex . . ._

When the door opened again, Michael looked up. Alex, once again, was the first inside. He was panting, his cheeks flushed.

“Alex,” he breathed. “C’mere.”

This time Michael made it to his feet before Alex ran into his arms. “You’re okay,” Alex whispered against his shoulder, his arms scrambling, trying to take in as much of Michael as was possible, one hand in his curls, below his bandage, the other in his shirt. “You’re okay.”

“I’m here,” Michael assured him, holding him back just as tightly, even as Max and Isobel and Kyle came in. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Alex.”

“Michael,” Isobel tried when he and Alex broke apart. “Do you . . . know who we are?”

Michael sighed, grim. “Yeah,” he said. “No more forgetting.”

Max and Alex shared a look. Max asked, “Does – Does that mean – ?”

“Yeah,” said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I remember everything. The whole year.”

Silence.

“And to think,” Kyle said. “All it took was a hit to the head. If only I’d known.” He put a hand on his chest. “I would’ve gladly tossed him into a wall.”

“Well!” Alex said lightly, though he wasn’t looking at Michael. “Then I guess everything’s back to normal.”

Isobel groaned, sitting down on the bed beside Michael. “Normal?” she said miserably. “Who’s that? I don’t know her.”

“How’re you feeling?” Alex said more softly.

Michael grinned. Always the one to check on others first. He was probably just as afraid as Michael, but that wasn’t what mattered most to him now. Michael was.

“Good,” he said. “Head hurts.”

“Well . . .” Max nodded, unsure, “good.”

“I told you,” Kyle shrugged. “His scans are fine.”

“I don’t think that’s what he –”

“I know what he meant,” Kyle cut Isobel off with a sharp glance at Alex as if to say, _But how_ Alex _feels matters, too._

Michael tapped a fist on his leg. Alex was moving further away from him. He had to stop him.

“Hey, uh, you think you can give us a minute?”

More silence. No one seemed to know who Michael had been talking to. Finally, Alex said, “Uh, sure. Come on, Kyle, we should –”

“ _No_ , Alex, no,” Michael said at once, his voice fierce to his own ears. “Guys,” he said again with a look to the others. “A minute?”

Isobel, Max, and Kyle looked to each other as if to say, _Oh, he meant us_ , and turned to leave. Kyle looked a little hesitant, but with a reassuring nod from Alex, he was gone, the door closed behind him.

Michael smiled, not knowing what else to do. “Why are you so far away?” He patted the bed next to him. “Come on.”

Alex glanced at the door, rubbing the nape of his neck. Michael wondering if he was contemplating whether or not it was too late to leave. He remembered Alex’s smile in the car, bidding him a silent goodbye. But he also remembered Alex’s giggle against his lips, Alex’s tears, Alex fighting for him, Alex trying and trying and _trying_. Always trying for him.

Alex sat down, and Michael took his hand in his own. “You know what I thought,” he started slowly, “the first time I ever saw you?”

Alex was looking at their hands together, and managed a weak scoff. “’Crap, it’s that kid whose guitar I stole’?”

Michael smiled more genuinely. He shook his head. “I thought . . . ‘Magic.’” At Alex’s knit brows, Michael clarified, “The first time I saw you wasn’t behind the school in my truck. I heard someone playing the piano in the music room. Nobody usually hung out in there, but the music was . . . it was otherworldly. I didn’t find out till way later that it was just something you made up.

“I looked through the window, and there was this kid in a black sweater with a skull and crossbones, torn black jeans, and black eyeshadow and nails . . . playing like he was trying to drown in the music. The sun was shining down on you through the window . . . and your eyes were closed. And I just . . . stared at you. When you were done, you smiled like you almost never smile, like you were at peace. And you looked out the window and waved at the birds, and – and you laughed. And it was . . . _everything_.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know how else to talk to you, and I didn’t understand why it was so important that I did. But I took your guitar, hoping you’d come to me instead. And you did.”

Alex stared. He slowly shook his head. “I – I don’t even remember that.”

“I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to.” Michael grinned. “And I don’t. I’d always known I was smarter than any human, Alex. I’d always felt I was _better_. And the second I met you, that stopped being true. I didn’t know anything.” He huffed a chuckle. “I stole your guitar ‘cause I didn’t know how to talk to you!”

Alex chuckled, his eyes red. His smile dimmed to something more hesitant. “And . . . now?”

“ _Now_ . . .” he shook his head. “Now, I _still_ don’t know anything, Alex. I – I don’t know how to undo what I did. I don’t know how to deserve you. I don’t know how to stop being _terrified_ that you’re going to realize you’re too good for me. For _anybody_. I’m so scared I’ll lose you, I –”

Alex took Michael’s face in his hands. “Just tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

In the end, there was nothing to consider. There was only one thing Michael could’ve wanted, something he’d wanted since the day Alex had told him he enlisted. Since the day he’d first _seen_ Alex.

“Stay,” he said. “ _Stay_ , Alex. Don’t leave Roswell. Don’t leave _me_. I want you to stay.”

Alex said nothing as he searched Michael’s face, as if committing this moment to memory, to prove to himself that it actually happened. Michael’s heart was hammering.

Alex leaned in and softly kissed Michael’s lips. As Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, a tear fell. He felt Alex gently guiding him back onto the pillows. Alex kissed him a few more times before he laid down to curl against Michael, resting his head on the cowboy’s shoulder, his hand over Michael’s heart.

Michael slowly reached up to cover it with his own, hardly able to believe any of this was happening. That he finally had Alex – _his_ Alex – at his side.

“You’re staying?” Michael whispered.

Alex looked up at him, his dark eyes sparkling in the morning sun, dawning on a new day.

He shrugged a shoulder, smiling softly. “You asked me to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done *strrrrrrrretch* :3

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://pastelwitchling.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This story is meant to be a culmination of quite a number of prompt requests that I've gotten, but it's the second chapter that really starts incorporating those prompts. I just wanted a good lead in as a first chapter. I don't expect the next chapter will take longer than a week or two.  
> If you enjoyed reading the first chapter, even just a little bit, commenting and sharing really makes the WORLD of a difference ❤


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